I had a really hard time leaving for work this morning. I peeked in the rooms of each of my three sleeping children and felt tears welling up in my eyes. I tried to blink them away but one slid down my cheek as I picked up my coffee mug and keys and walked out the door. I wanted so badly to crawl in and snuggle each one of those kids, and then spend a lazy summer morning figuring out how to keep them happy and cool.
This pull between work and motherhood continues to shock me, even though I am now nearly ten years into my parenting life:
Even with a job I love…
Even with a great schedule…
Even with a supportive husband…
Even when the kids are doing well…
Even though I enjoy working…
Even though I know my income is crucial in supporting my family…
Even though they are no longer babies…
Some days are just hard.
I am not ashamed to admit this. I wish other working parents would feel free speak more openly about it too. I’d like to think acknowledging the tug of war doesn’t make us any less professional, just more human.
Days like this make it so hard to put the keys in the ignition and pull away. But the moment those tears appeared in my eyes is the kind of thing I try to burn into my memory – something to tap into when I’m in the middle of a long day at home when my “angels” get determined to push limits and test boundaries.
I am thankful for the power of that moment. I am thankful for the precious sleeping faces that inspired it.
I am thankful for the tears.
