I got so much done today thanks to the wonderful weekly planner the mister bought for me, among other things, for Christmas. There's still more to do, but I'm powering through.
Though I cried when the mister picked up Bo to whisk him off to daycare, even though I spent most of the night holding him after he squeaked out "Cuddle me?" from the inky blackness around his pillow.
We ordered takeout for lunch while P. was at school because the oven is broken. And because I had too much to be able to go out for a midday meal with my poor neglected insomniac husband.
But I procrastinated plenty first looking at the pictures Bo's daycare posted and then wondering what he might be doing at that very moment (other than learning his letters and apparently peeing on his jeans).
I don't know if he ever misses me because he always has still more to do, too. He's a guy on the go.
A sometimes I feel like I'm short-changing him.
Even if he benefits from the conference calls I'll have tomorrow and the article I wrote today. The food he eats and the toys he has and on and on - all the good stuff comes from my paychecks, too. But it's hard to explain that to a two-year-old when three-quarters of the family is going to the playground so I can work and he says, "Mama, come too?"
When P. was two she was just starting daycare and we'd had two amazing years of exploring our neighborhood as a duo. I missed her like crazy but the plan was always to figure out some way to get that feeling of being free together back.
With Bo I never had it. I worked in the hospital while he snoozed on my lap. I answered work emails while he nursed and took calls with him snuggled on my shoulder, bouncing from living room to kitchen in time with his breaths.
He was always along for the ride and I love him for making it as easy as he could, but he and I have never felt like a perfect pair.
And so I cried.