The Working Mom Delimma...

You know it. You've heard it. You've probably even participated in a debate about it. The now common-place discourse surrounding women everywhere who have children: working mom v. stay-at-home mom.

I won't even pretend to be an expert on this subject, considering that I've not done either for very long. But...let's just say the preliminary verdict definitely lands on the side of the working mom. I was a stay-at-home mom for three months and I've now been a working mom for 2 months. Let me be the first (well probably not the first) to say that being a stay-at-home mom is difficult. It's tiring and emotionally draining. It can also be pretty isolating. However, for someone like myself who genuinely feels that the sun rises and falls from within my daughters beautiful baby bottom, it was a glorious time. I got to spend my entire day watching her learn, develop, and grow. Watching her personality blossom before my eyes.

Now, I spend 75% of my time (and I'm being modest) thinking about her and wishing I was the one with her, teaching her and nurturing her... rather than watching her on my computer screen (on a less than optimal video stream might I add). I wake up before dawn; get her up, dressed, fed, and out the door with her father. I squeeze in about a three mile run and get back just as the sun is making its appearance and the street lights are bidding adieu. I throw myself together (usually in thirty min) and get to work barely on time. There, I spend the rest of my day taking care of very special, delightfully high maintenance children whilst fighting the inner mom impulse to check on her via computer every 30 seconds (the gift and curse of having her at a daycare with a camera system). I'm dying to be with her every moment and hear every new sound, see every new developmental milestone...enjoy her.

But...instead, I work.

I work so that she can have ridiculously cute little pajamas and adorable dresses. I work so that one day she won't have to work quite as hard as I have.

And when I get home...I cook, clean, and scrub little bottles with a baby on my hip (or hanging from my boob). I rest for the first time all day after she's sound asleep in bed around 7:30...and shovel some dinner down before I pass out in the bed. Then, I do it all again the next day.

This is my life. I do the best I can to give every aspect-mommy, worker, and wife--100%...

But I'm beginning to realize there isn't quite 300% of me...