Going back to work.

I forgot what it was like to leave your baby with a care provider and go to work.
I forgot how the separation of you from your baby makes you realize how deeply intertwined you have become.
I forgot that I was going to go back to work after Easter that would change my routine.

So in my forgetting what was coming and now living in this reality waves of grief wash over me.
I spent a lot of time in February and March figuring out how to do the day to day with my kids.
How to get people to preschool, how to fold laundry, how to cook a meal and deal with a baby and 2 little girls who were screaming at each other.

I learned to set an alarm 15 minutes before I needed to be anywhere.
I learned to wake Miriam up from her nap by opening the door and making noise.
I learned the best way to be patient with a long feeding with Thomas was to watch and episode of Sex and the City.
 
I figured all this out and then in what feels like a sudden jolt 2 of these days are given to a childcare provider and at best it is weird. At worst it is sad.

Our childcare right now looks great. We have a wonderful woman coming to be with the kiddos 2 days per week.  It seems like a great fit for Sean and I and for the girls.  It feels much better than our last CCP, and I think this could last for us.

But still...but still...leaving a 14 week old who is still molding his routine out of the soft folds of his life breaks my heart.
Working late into the evening is so strangely isolating and solitary.
The girls I am comfortable leaving, even when they cry at my departure sometimes

But leaving a baby who cannot tell you about his day, cannot unpack any of it makes my heart skip a beat for the ache of it.

But I remind myself.  I console myself, that just because he isn't cuddling me doesn't mean he isn't getting cuddles.
Just because I feel full of milk doesn't mean he isn't eating.
And one of the best ways I can take care of myself is by being me beyond mothering.
One of the best ways I can love Sean is by trusting him as a parent.

And so it goes the thick complication of parenting, loving, and living.