My house is quiet.
No “Yo Gabba Gabba” blasting in the background.
No sounds of dress up shoes clanking on the kitchen floor.
No screams of “Mom! I’m done! Come wipe my butt.”
This is what I’ve wanted for so long. This is what I’ve closed my eyes and wished for.
So why does it make me want to cry? Why is it that the only thing that I can think of is to get in my car, hop onto the freeway and pick up my little girl from day care?
Yes—today was my daughter’s first day of day care.
Ever since I started working for BlogHerAds, I knew that the day would come where I would have to find a preschool/childcare for G-Unit for at least a couple of days a week. But I’ve been too chicken shit to actually go through with it.
She’s the daughter that I never thought I’d have.
She’s the last baby that I will ever have.
I love being home with her, spending my mornings (in between working) laying on her bedroom floor, drawing happy face after happy face after happy face (because Good God Almighty, the girl is obsessed with drawing happy faces!).
I love dancing with her in my messy bedroom to Beauty and the Beast 20 times in a row.
I love her. And as cheesy as it sounds, I do feel incredibly blessed to have been able to be full time mom to her for these past 3 years, something that I didn’t get to do with my boys.
But I think “it’s time” that I expand her world a little bit while at the same time freeing up some time for me to do the things that I need to do.
I believe that this is going to be good for both of us.
She needs to be around other children, she needs to learn that it’s ok to not spend every second of her life with Mommy.
I need these couple days a week to be able to concentrate on work and on all of the housework that I’ve been neglecting because of work.
And if I’m being honest, I do need a little peace and quiet to salvage what little bit of sanity that I have left in this non functioning thyroid brain of mine.
Yet, I can’t help feeling guilty and perhaps a little weepy that my daughter isn’t here, throwing herself on the floor whilst screaming at the top of her lungs because I had the effing NERVE to pour her apple juice in a BLUE cup and not in the pretty pink princess cup that daddy bought her.
My house is quiet.