The longer I’m back to work, the more I find I miss the small one. The novelty of being out of the house has officially expired now that I’ve been a working mom as long as I was on maternity leave. It’s days like today, when I’m between projects and have some unexpected breathing room between meetings and general fire-fighting that I find myself staring at his picture on the computer’s desktop and smiling, and thinking how much I want to pick him up and eat his cheeks. It’s not a bad sort of miss, the kind that involves crying or dread or self-doubt… it’s more of an “aw, man. I wish I was with my kid right now. He’s so awesome. I wonder what toy he’s shoving in his mouth right now.”
And then I fantasize about winning the lottery, and all the books I’d buy to read aloud to the boy during our new found time together. It’s funny how the lottery fantasy changes with a child – it’s no longer trips abroad… it’s just getting my time back.
