I’m not the only mom

Fiona holding honeysuckle

Being a working mom is … hard. Some days are harder than others. Like this week.

We’re going through some transitions as a family right now, and every single one of them affects Fiona. At 15 months, she’s hanging in there so well. But it’s hard. On top of it all, she’s been sick, there was a family wedding that had us traveling and kept us up late too many nights in a row, she had another round of vaccinations at her most recent well checkup, she’s teething, etc. etc. etc. You get it. I’m not the only mom going through these things right now.

I feel awful that I can’t be with her every step of the way through these transitions. She cries for me, her mama, and I’m not there.

I’m missing out on so many of the good things too. So many firsts. Her first trip to the zoo. Her first time strawberry picking. It devastates me that I can’t be there. But I would never deprive her of those wonderful memories that she can make with other friends and family who love her dearly.

And so I find myself trying to work, while my heart breaks a little and my mind wanders to my precious daughter.

We get a message from Fiona’s caregiver — she’s not coping well. I’m on a Skype conference call with colleagues, hitting the mute button every so often to discuss with Husband what we should do. He’ll go. Rescue her. I remember to un-mute myself in time add my voice to the chorus of “thank yous” and “goodbyes”. You working moms get it. I’m not the only mom going through these things right now.

Meanwhile, the back hatch to my SUV stands open, the windows rolled down. Because it smells like chicken poop. Literally. Husband used my truck to pick up seven new chickens for our little homestead. I go out to check on them, mostly to ensure someone had remembered to give them water. But I find a chicken outside the pen, grab her and drop her back in. There, I think. All fixed. And then I notice there are only three chickens in the pen, even though we’d brought home seven. So as I’m juggling texts with the nanny about the screaming toddler, I’m also wrangling chickens. That’s life. You get it. I’m not the only mom going through these things right now (well, maybe the chicken wrangling thing).

Shoes, I remember. Fiona loves her shoes. I tell the nanny to put her shoes on. It helps, a little.

We’ll make it through this. All moms do, right? Ours isn’t the first toddler to struggle through transition. I’m not the only mom going through these things right now.

When I went back to this post to edit it, I thought I was seeing light at the end of the tunnel. We had made it through the week. Then I got the call the something had tunneled under our chicken pen and gotten to all seven of our new hens. I’m all for adventures in homesteading, but this was a terrible ending to a horrible week. Prayers of encouragement appreciated.

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