Dear Lili,
Tomorrow I head ‘back to school’ – aka my old office to work a freelance gig for three days a week for the next few weeks. I am nervous to say the least. It will be fine and everyone is great but ok…I leave you at 9:30AM and come home to you at 6:30PM. I haven’t done this before. And yes – I want a little sympathy.
It’s a big deal as a woman/Mom trying to balance all this crap. Today for example – I had to finish up revisions on scripts and had no babysitter. Technically I worked two full-time jobs today except I put only one boss in a bubble bath before bed and it was you.
You are at this wild age where nothing can stop you. I admire this about you and resent my powerlessness at times. Mostly I think you will grow up to be strong willed and stop at nothing which I like about you. The world could use a little change.
Today was one of those days you wanted to show me your muscle. I put you down for one moment and at the next blink of an eye you had one leg wrapped around a computer chord plugged into the wall and your eye on a full glass of water on the table. I then built a blockcade of cushions to keep you from the perils of our livingroom bookshelf (large, heavy photography books potentially falling on you) and you knocked down my blockade with a smile and even a grunt like Babyzilla. Nothing can stop you from your Weegee.
I finally gave up on checking emails much less writing at all and decided since you weren’t sleeping and you sure as heck weren’t eating (you liked quiche yesterday and gagged on it this morning like it was a rotting piece of blue cheese) we should head out to our home away from home – the Brooklyn library.
The library was ok and all for a while and then a class of what seemed like 10,000 kids came in. And a few moments after that I took my eyes off you for one second and you had crawled literally under – UNDER – the chair of a very, very large obese woman who got up quickly and stepped back with all her weight on to your tiny hand. You were crying so hard I thought you broke your fingers or worse a hand. Boy was that scary. Luckily – phew – you were fine.
You helped me go back to school shopping today. On the way home from the library we stopped into Duane Reade because at the last minute it occurred to me I had no notebook for meetings or work. The only thing left on the racks was a purple Trapper Keeper with TRAPPER KEEPER written on the side. I had to buy it. I was desperate. I look forward to the point where someone across the room takes a glance over at me and wonders who invited the under dressed seventh grader to the meeting.
I found one of your maple leaves that you love so much while cleaning up tonight. I stuck it in my bag so I can think of you tomorrow and every day. I love you Lili.
xo
It IS so hard to leave them, especially at first, especially when they are little. But you know what’s really nice? NOT doing ten things at once and going pee alone and grabbing a cup of coffee and getting to have a full-length adult conversation. It makes me a better mom to work (albeit part-time-ish)- maybe you will find the same? Good luck tomorrow!
Welcome to the Wonder Woman club! It is politically incorrect to say, but I love my kids and I love my work. Even if it drives me insane making it work in a way where neither suffers, okay, suffers very little. That’s the Woman part of it. That my kids get to see both sides of me, mom and boss….that’s the Wonder(ful) side of the Wonder Woman. I have old age to sleep.
i hope your day back went well. i know it must have been hard. i dont have kids yet but i remember my girlfriend having a really hard time going back to work. she would call me, sobbing every day for the first few weeks. it’s still hard for her and her daughter is almost 2.
love the new header pic. that HAS to be your mom on the left.
This is so sweet. I remember packing up little onesies that smelled of new baby when I returned to work. As I pumped in an empty conference room, sometimes I would bring the corner of pastel cotton up to my face and inhale deeply. She’s now 4 1/2 and I no longer haul around her dirty laundry, but many parts of her linger in my sub-conscience when we are apart.