Yesterday, I asked Chris if I could have a do-over. In the words of Alexander, it was an all together "terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day." It could have been worse. Yes, I realize it could have been worse. But in my little world of work, family, mommy blogs, and reruns of The Daily Show, it was pretty bad. Work was rough enough but then I came home to a very wired but very tired little boy. He had failed to sleep during the day and, as a result, wasn't the least bit interested in going to sleep at bedtime. And my little guy became inconsolable. That is until Chris scooped him up. Instantly the turtle had his thumb in his mouth, his head on daddy's shoulder and his crying stopped. And I lost it.
Please don't get me wrong. I don't blame Chris and the turtle. Of course not. Sure, I envy their time together but I know it was the choice we had to make. And I know that Chris and I are taking steps every day toward becoming a more "full-time family." But some days being the working-outside-the-home parent, breaks my heart.
The turtle and I play a game. I call it, "but I'm the mama." It goes like this:
I ask him, "Where's the baby?" and he'll point to me. And then I ask, "Where's the mama?" and he'll put his hand on his chest and say "mama." Then I'll throw my hands in the air and say, "But I'm the mama." And the turtle laughs. We can go back and forth 20 times, and my little guy never loses interest.
But last night it wasn't so funny. No, last night I saw my little guy snuggle into Chris' shoulder and I just wanted to cry, "But, I'm the mama."