Debbie Downer

I knew that being a working mom would be hard.  I knew it before Lucas was even born.  When I was pregnant with him, I was exhausted.  The fear of being tired all the time was something that really plagued me during my pregnancy.  Some people can do amazing things without much sleep, but I've never really been one of them, and I think the majority of people in this world do not fit into that category.

Well, amazingly enough I got used to the lack of sleep.  And now that Lucas is sleeping almost 12 hours a night, things have gotten so much better.  I have time in the evening to watch something on the DVR or read a book for pleasure or whatever I want.  Then I can go to bed and get 6+ hours of sleep.  

So really, the sleep is not the problem.  I guess I'm just feeling kind-of bummed today, so please excuse this depressing post - a temporary departure from the norm.  This morning when I dropped Lucas off at daycare, Brenda and I were talking about how Lucas hates tummy time.  (By the way, things have gotten exponentially better in the Brenda arena.  I think we all just needed an adjustment period.)  We were discussing how we both just keep on doing the tummy time, even though Lucas screams and gets angry.  And then she said, "But he's rolling over really well, so I'm not too concerned."

I was pretty surprised when she said that.  I could count on one hand the number of times I'd seen Lucas roll over, and every time he did it you would have thought someone just handed me a stack of cash that went up to the ceiling.  Lucas rolling over is a big deal to me because I can't get him to do it on his own.  But apparently, he's rolling over regularly for Brenda.  

As I walked out to my car, it hit me how much of my son's life I am missing while I'm at work.  I know it's not good to dwell on things like this because I can't do anything about it at this juncture.  But it just doesn't sit well with me that for Brenda, Lucas rolling over is a regular occurance; with me, I can coax him and encourage him and put a zillion toys around him (everything Parenting magazine could ever possibly suggest) and nothing.  Well, not nothing.  There's always the ear-splitting screams and the frustrations the reach a fever pitch if I leave him there for longer than 30 seconds.  And some kids when they get frustrated being on their tummy, they try to roll over to rectify the situation.  But Lucas gets so mad that he usually plants his face into the floor and screeeeeeeeams.  

And the screaming is something I have a really hard time with when I've just gotten home from working my big, flat butt off all day.  I've never been what one might call a patient person.  And lately at work, I've been forced to use any patience reserve I might have for the day.  And then some.  Because at work, you can't just blow up and say whatever you might be thinking at the moment.  (Oh how I would love to.)  

So when I get home from work, I'm zonked.  I know I shouldn't be whinining about this.  I am very thankful to have a job, especially one that has been so generous to me and treated me so well.  You just don't find jobs like mine in Michigan anymore, and I am so painfully aware of that fact.  In fact, if my job weren't so darn good, it would have been easy to cut bait and stay at home.

But therein lies the battle.  There are so many people out there just waiting to fill a job like this.  I'm not the only one who can do this job well.  In fact, there are probably people out there who can do it better.  But even though I'm not a perfect mom, I'm pretty sure there's no one else out there could could be Lucas' mommy better.  God gave Lucas to me, not to someone else, so I know there's some reason for that.  Even if I don't understand why, God must have thought that I could be a mommy to Lucas better than anyone else could.  

I wish there were two of me so my job and my family could both get the best of me.  That is a waste of time thing to wish, and I'm frustrated with myself for even typing that.  I'm not trying to be all "poor me, I have to work."  Believe me, I am mentally kicking my butt for even writing this post.  I've almost deleted this at least five times.  But I won't, because I feel like I need to put this out there, to get it off my chest.  And also because I really don't think there's anything wrong with saying that I'd rather be at home with my son.  

I'll be back to my regularly-scheduled program of dazzling wit and intelligent humor soon, but I guess for right now it's Debbie Downer.