It is hard work being a working Mom. I feel like I have enough expertise to say this, as I have worked the entire span of Margot's life. Of course I took a few months off when she was born, but for all intents and purposes, I have been the working parent her whole life. This has been both wonderful and terrible at times, mixed with more emotion and tears than I care to recount.
Lately, however, I have been struggling a wee bit with Margot and her attitude toward me. About three quarters of the time, she seems irked at me for being gone all day. When I get home, she will hardly look at me. "Dadda, Dadda!" she will say as she punches me in the throat while simultaneously leaping out of my arms toward Ben. "Dadda, Dadda!" she will say as she runs toward him and hugs him. "Dadda, Dadda!" she screams in delight as he tickles her chubby little knees. I should be happy about this, right? I should be so lucky to have such an amazing, hands on husband. But honestly, it makes me feel like wet toast.
Sometimes, it's hard not to feel like the worst Mother ever. But just when I feel like I can't take anymore and my heart is going to break into a thousand pieces, guess what? There is that remaining quarter of time where the sun rises and sets on ME. I'll get a big, wet, open mouth kiss and a pat on the back. She will wrap her little arms around me neck and squeeze. She will look directly in my eyes, and touch my face and whisper "mama" and I know that she forgives me. Forgives me for leaving her all day, and is happy to see me when I get back.
And I feel like the best Mama that ever lived.