Mommy is in Timeout

I picked up my phone during my prep period and noticed I had a text. As I unlocked it and started to retrieve the message, I could tell it was from my mom. “He rolled over! He’s done it a few times! I put him on his back, went into the kitchen and when I walked back into the room – he was on his tummy!”

I should have been happy. I should have been excited for this new milestone my little boy just reached. I should have been grateful that this happened on a day when my mom had him, so at least she was able to experience it.

I wasn’t. Instead, I started crying on the spot. I was still reeling from returning to work after my maternity leave. I had been back for 3 months and I knew this was the first of many important moments that I would miss.

I sat at my desk, staring at the stack of papers in front of me. I started in on my grading, thinking it might distract me. Through my blurry, teared up vision, I could see the words on the paper - debits, credits, assets – but none of it mattered. My head and my heart were at home with my little boy.

I set aside the stack and started tapping my Sharpie on my desk.Was I making the right decision? Should I be missing out on these moments? I was his mom. I should have been there with him.

Three years later, I get the same sinking feeling when something happens and I wasn’t home. I have the same litany of questions and thoughts run through my head, like a broken record.

Will he forgive me for not being the one, with arms wide open, ready to catch him after his first step?

Will he ever think of me as someone who chose a career over him?

Will he remember standing in his pajamas, clutching his teddy and blanket, begging me not to go to work?

Will he tell me one day that he was angry I didn’t stay home?

As a working mom, I’ve had to overcome many guilty moments. I still work on forgiving myself for the choice I made. My only hope is that my boys will always understand that, no matter what, they always come first.

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This post was for The Red Dress Club. The prompt was to write about forgiveness. Concrit welcomed and appreciated.

“My students just clued me in that I have a booger on my shirt. It’s 5th hour. Been there all day. Thank you Lanagan.” I tweeted as my day ended Friday.I should have known better. My son Lanagan woke up unusually early with a stuffy nose. I was running late for work and picked him up for a quick hug goodbye. He then threw in the added bonus of a sneeze. I never even thought to double check for remnants.It didn’t come up during any of my morning classes. It didn’t come up during lunch (thanks lunch crew). It wasn’t until 12:32 during a lecture that a student finally brought it to my attention: “Mrs. W….there’s a booger on your shirt.” Fantastic.Turns out the other 104 people I spoke with that day were too polite to mention the enormous chunk of nose candy  my son sent me off to work with. I had noticed an increased number of snickering, pointing and note passing earlier in the day. Ok, I think they were passing text messages. It is 2011 you know.I’m sure the messages read something like “keep it on the DL. W has a big boog on her shirt.” I imagine one of my morning students has uploaded a video of it by now to YouTube. If so, at the very least I hope it’s getting a lot of hits.*Sigh*. The life of a mom with young children. Little sticky hands always leads to a major fashion faux pas. The only accessorizing I do these days is matching lip gloss to the jelly smudge on my pants. Now I’ll have to be on the look out for little nose treats as well.Someday I will walk out of the house with my outfit 100% clean. Until then, I’ll learn to enjoy the mess. I’m a work in progress. As Grammy always tells me, I’ll miss it someday. Some very far off day.For now, I will just remember that with that booger stain came a priceless hug from my sweet little boy. It’s a funny badge of honor. What about you – any embarrassing moments from your little personal stylists?