TGINM

I have read and re-read the same four sentences for the past twenty-five minutes. I am trying to get my reading done for class, but there is a knot in my stomach and a lump in my throat, and a dozen other clichés about dread and worry and anxiety and heart ache, and no amount of coffee or deep breathing has improved my concentration.

Because there is a big red circle around next Tuesday. And today’s Friday. And oh my God.

More significantly, it’s the last Friday of my maternity leave. Ella is now twelve weeks old, and next week, I go into the office wearing big girl pants and a smile plastered on my face, dragging my breast pump and my breaking heart in with me. Next week I kiss Jay and Ella goodbye and head into the office to do work that will pay for our health insurance and our milk habit. I will use big words again and return email. I will go to staff meetings and make small talk with co-workers. And I will try not to cry.

I’ll make no bones about it. Life has been a challenge these past few months as our new and improved family learns a new and improved rhythm; as we struggle to figure out, well, actually, everything. I have lost my temper with Jay. More than once. I have collapsed into tears, because it was just too hard. Everything was just. Too. Hard. I have gone into the bathroom and locked the door so that I could spend just three minutes all by myself, without anyone attached to my boob or clinging to my leg. I checked Ella into ChildWatch at the YMCA the very day she turned six weeks old because Jesus, I needed a break. And a workout. And a break. And really, really, really, a break.

And now, here I am. So wishing I could live every moment over again.

These have been the twelve hardest, most exhausting, beautiful, wonderful, amazing, incredible weeks I have ever lived. I have spent entire days building cardboard forts with Jay and tromping around state parks with Ella snuggled peacefully in the sling. I have eaten lunch with Chris everyday and cooked beans from scratch, stirring them all day as they simmered in the pot and the smell of bay leaves and garlic filled the condo. I have been around to kiss Jay’s owies away and to see Ella’s first smile. I have been here to take Jay to story time at the library and to lay down with him at nap time, or hold his hand as I rocked Ella in the glider next to his big boy bed. I have been here to make peanutbutter and jelly sandwiches with STRAWBERRY jelly, not grape jally, mama, and I have been here to sneak Jay cookies when Daddy wasn't looking. I have been with Chris, Jay and Ella every moment for the last twelve weeks. And though sometimes I swore- SWORE- that it was hell, and please could I just poop ONCE without someone wiggling their toddler fingers through the crack under the door and saying, “Maaaaaammmmaaaaa… what you DOING in der? Come out pleeeeeeeeeaaaaaaase” there was never, ever, a second of doubt for me that it was heaven. It has been nothing short of wonderful.

I know that when I go in next week I am not shipping my kids off to boarding school. I will come home from the office. Every day, even. I will eat dinner with them and read books and books and books. I will listen to Jay talk about his day. I will give them baths and sing the Wheels on the Bus. I will wake up on Saturday morning and make pancakes with Jay and put butter and honey on them, just like he likes. I will still be able to kiss his owies. Ella will still smile and coo for me.

I am still their mom.

I know this. I know that whether I am working at an office or home watching Thomas the Tank Engine DVDs that I am still mama. I love them when we are apart as much as I love them when we’re together.

But still.

My heart hurts.

And that ugly red circle is creeping closer and closer. And I miss them already. I can’t bring myself to say TGIF. Instead, I’ll say TGINM Thank God it’s not Monday. Because Monday is going to suck.

And I still have more forts to build and cookies to sneak before then.