Yesterday was my first day back at work. I actually couldn’t believe how quickly it came up. I LOVE my job, but daycare has been a scary issue for me since I’ve had The Boy. Fortunately, my wonderful mother and mother-in-law have stepped up to look after him for the next 8 weeks while I finish up the school year.
I got up extra early to get ready. Showered, makeup, nice (food free) clothes. Freaked out on my husband because I couldn’t find my wallet. Gulped down a coffee and ran out the door. The Boy wasn’t even awake when I left (and he usually won’t be, because I have quite a long commute to get to work). Phew.
When the bell rang for the end of the school day, I jumped in my car and raced home. I couldn’t wait to see him. I had felt sick all day wondering if he was crying, missing me, looking for me, wondering where I was. I imagined his face when he saw me- so happy and full of glee.
Dream on, sister. Instead, I got a little boy who was having way too much fun with his Grandma and Grandpa and wasn’t the least bit interested in his boring mommy. A little boy who, after a very quick hello, chose to go to his Grandma over his mother.
The one who bore him was now an afterthought. He had new, exciting people to play with. I am, officially, old news.
I cried my whole way to work this morning thinking about how easily I was replaced in his life. Yes, I know I’m the one he’ll want when he’s sick or hurt or really tired. I know he loves me, logically. But to see him enjoying his time away from me so much really hurt my maternal heart. Secretly, I had hoped he would cry a little bit. Not sob, but just show that he missed me. I know I should be happy that he’s independent and easy to look after but, seriously, after a year of (happily) giving him everything I was looking forward for at least one little tear or whine- just something to show me he still loved me the most.
For now, it’s just mommy crying as I head out the door…