As I was sitting in my Sociology class this week, the class discussion turned to the subject of women working outside of the home. The professor asked how many of us had children. A lot of hands went up....all women. Of those, he asked how many also held jobs. One woman said she needs to work to get away from her kids. This kind of comment always pisses me off, mainly because I would give anything just to be able to stay home with my little boy.
That was a dream that is now faded and far off; one that escaped, unrealized. My baby will start kindergarten next fall. I never got the chance to stay home and play with blocks and have tummy time and pull him in a little red wagon on a sunny afternoon. All of those things that a good mom is supposed to do.....
This is why my evenings and weekends and early mornings are so important to me. It's why I turn down dinner invitations and girls' nights and why I could have my husband take him to Grandma's house in the mornings or to preschool on the days that he goes, but I choose to do it. I want to do it. If I hadn't taken him to school this morning, I would have missed his little voice singing all the words to "Spirit in the Sky." Those few minutes in the car have carried me through this day that has otherwise been very sad.
I think this is also why I've been so lax about getting up in the morning to go to CrossFit. Actually, I know that's it. I'm becoming more aware every day that his childhood is slipping through my fingers. I can't hold on to it. And when he crawls into bed with me at 4 a.m. on these cold mornings, I find it so, so hard to tear myself away from his sweet self, his soft little hand holding mine. So, I don't. I have so few of these days left. So, I will make it in to work out when I can. And I will be more disciplined with my schedule so that I'm not stretched so thin and will actually make it in those three times a week that I pay so dearly for. But that little boy comes first. And he always will.
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