Why I’m Here

I was heading out the door. I stopped into the playroom, keys in hand, jacket buttoned up. “See you guys!

BigBrother actually paused his DS and looked at me. “Where are you doing?

I’m off to the doctor. Remember, I said it would take awhile.

Oh good.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

When you’re gone for long times, that means I get to miss you. I like to miss you.

Huh.

I’ve made choices and rearranged schedules and altered the course of my career to be here. A lot. Most of the time. I travel here and there. And I do actually have a life outside of the walls of my house. But I am here. A lot.

It’s the moments like these that make me confused as to what I’m doing. Here. All the time.

I grew up with a mom who put herself through college when I was a small child, worked her way up the ladder and was both a great mom and a great career woman. She was there when I was younger, and I remember “helping” her study at our coffee table. I don’t think I realized that I was more of a distraction than a help until I was trying to meet deadlines and learn new things with two children under foot. Or, often, on top of my feet as they frequently drive cars and trains and trucks and fire trucks and ambulances and tractors over my toes while I work.

Working from home isn’t always easy. Learning to separate what I do for work from what I do for my family was a hard process, learned (and re-learned) over the past six years. Like Stacy, I share an office with the playroom, though I mostly hang out upstairs since my two sons have been known to make ear drums burst with their volume. Someday I dream of my own office space, one that I don’t have to share with anyone. With a lock on the door, which would be pointless as it would mostly be open and children would be standing in it asking me for water when they can get the water themselves. But I still dream of it. It’s green, obviously.

It’s funny that I love to travel for my job, and I look forward to taking trips to new places. But as the day arrives, I dread leaving my little guys behind. I enjoy my time with my coworkers, meeting new people and experiencing new things, but I love the look on their face when I return. When I got back from my MRI the other day, they looked just as happy. Mainly because it was time to play Super Mario Bros., so it may have been less about me and more about my accidental timing. But I smiled back at them, ready to play.

I dropped the boys off with my mother-in-law to spend the night tonight. We’re having our last holiday celebration tomorrow with my sister-in-law and her husband. Maybe tomorrow when I show up, they will run and hug me and say, “Mommy! I missed you!

January Fun

I know I will tell them that I missed them. I always do. That’s why I’m here.

 

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4 Replies to “Why I’m Here”

  1. It’s funny how the grass is always greener on the other side. If you’re always around, they want to miss you. If you’re never around, they want you with them.

    I just trust that one day they’ll understand what I was doing, and why.

  2. I feel the same way! I try to balance my time with my two boys and with working on my blog and Etsy shop projects. They too like to “help” and play around my feet. They too are very loud. What is it with boys and those loud voices? I do find though that when my husband is home from the fire department and takes the boys with him to run errands and to give me a break, I miss them! It is always so nice to hear their little voices and see their little faces when they come back home. I’m glad for the break and the help from my husband but I always miss all of them even when they are only gone a few hours!

  3. You should suggest they go “camping” in another room for a whole hour (or insert other amount of time here) so they can miss you even more. ;-)

    My girlies want to do everything practically right in my lap when we’re home. It’s nice to be missed when we’re at work/school/daycare, but on the other hand, a little breathing room would be nice from time to time. I try not to take all the togetherness for granted, but…

    I think all moms understand that problem!

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