Monday, November 17

Boys, don't hate me.

Today I went back to work. I left you. But don't worry, I'll be back!

Spending six weeks at home with you guys was something I will never forget. Not just because of the sheer boredom I sometimes felt, or the bone deep exhaustion, or the time that Fitz got poop on my sweater, the wall and his own feet, no not because of that. Well, maybe because of that. 

But now I'm back to work and you're hanging with Miss Fannie. And being your momma is just one of my many titles, not my only title. I have thought about this day for many months and surprisingly it wasn't the hot ass mess I thought it would be. I was only marginally late for work. Fifteen minutes is total progress! I didn't cry when I closed the door, or when I was in the car. In fact, I felt oddly at peace—like this was how it was supposed to be. Which, honestly, I haven't felt in, uhhhh, seven months or so?

You're going to grow and change so much under Fannie's watchful eye and I am going to miss it. I'm sure I will miss some small milestones, big ones too. I know I will have plenty of "Momma Guilt" when those things happen. But I also know that when I come home at night I am going to be so much more present with you than I was these last few weeks. I will no longer take feeding time, when you stare up at me with those big brown eyes, for granted. I'll even be more present for your diaper changes. Okay, that one's a lie, I’m still pawning off the green shit on your father as often as possible. 
There are so many adventures we've yet to go on, so don't worry, every morning when I shut the door, I will be back.

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