I try to tell myself that, if I was home with Kate all day every day, I would inevitably plead for a break during the day. That on those days where she’s fussy, or just wants mommy, it’d drive me a little mad to not be able to get anything done.
I try to tell myself that adult interaction is good, and even healthy for me. That I am #soblessed to work with friends, and to have a job that is pretty flexible and understanding.
I try to tell myself that working might, in fact, be helping to prevent depression (for me). That being busy and working outside the home is good for my mental state, especially in the winter when I’m prone to SAD.
I try to tell myself that it’s not silly to really look forward to buying her diapers and baby food on my lunch break, because it makes me feel close to her in that moment. That I don’t even mind pumping most of the time because it just reminds me of her and how she is healthy and growing.
I try to tell myself that it’s good for Kate to be around other kiddos during the day. That it’s good for her social skills. That it’s healthy for her to learn the value of “making friends” even at this very young age.
I try to tell myself that she sleeps half the time while I am gone, which….isn’t exactly true. But I tell myself that so I don’t feel like I’m missing out on things.
I try to tell myself that the grass is always greener on someone else’s lawn. That those cutesy Instagram shots mamas post of their baby helping with laundry on a Thursday morning, or trips to Target during the day–behind the scenes that mama might be losing her shit, too.
I try to tell myself that I am SO lucky to have a daughter who is healthy, and happy, and thriving. (And darn cute). And THAT is what matters….not where I spend 8 hours of my day.
I try to tell myself that it’ll get easier as time goes on. Which, it doesn’t…but that is what I try to tell myself. Especially on days like this.