Wednesday, January 8, 2014

Flying solo

The cold air breezes in through the window. The keys on the keyboard tap, tap, tap as I type this post.

In the distance I can hear the traffic on the main road. Every now and then a bird calls out. A small child screams out to another in the street while playing.

The tears fall slowly from my eyes, down my face and splash on the desk. I couldn't be bothered to wipe them away. I want to cry. I want to purge my body of this sad feeling.

My house is empty. I sit alone, working away at the computer. Tap, tap, tap on the keyboard.

Hubby is back at work after the holidays and both our babes are at daycare.

This week marks the first at daycare for our little man. Dropping him off for that first time I was racked with guilt, self-doubt and anxiousness. In fact, I felt a little nauseous about the whole thing.

Little miss has separation anxiety issues so I was petrified that our little man would be the same. And who am I kidding, even if he went off without a tear, I am still beside myself that he is off to daycare at all.

The centre where they go is just fabulous though. I have never had an issue while little miss has been there - and she has been going there for nearly four years. The carers are wonderful people and I am lucky to have a lovely relationship with them.

But sometimes I would love my babes to be able to be with me all the time. Sometimes the guilt of sending them off to daycare is immense. On the flip side, I know that it has boosted our little misses confidence immensely and with her starting school in three weeks it has been a great foundation.

I know it will have the same benefits for our little man. He will learn things and make friends becoming a social and confident little person.

As a mum though I can't help but be burdened with parent guilt. That guilt that makes you think you can always be doing better for your kids and always second guesses the decisions you make for them.

So for just a moment I will cry to purge the sadness of missing my little man and the overwhelming feelings of parent guilt.

P.S. Our little man was fine at his first drop-off. He sat at the gate and waved to little miss and I. When I picked him up I held on so tight, I felt like I never wanted to let go.

Do you sometimes just let the tears come?
Are you sometimes racked with parent guilt?

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