Ever since A was born, I remember always wanting her to hit her next milestone. As a new mom, it was always so exciting and I couldn’t wait to see what she would do next. I didn’t rush her by any means (she’s actually always been one to do things on her own time so rushing her wouldn’t have mattered anyway) but with her being my first child, everything was a new experience. She was my big girl. I always knew the time would fly by but I didn’t realize exactly how fast until now.

Now that my baby days are over.

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I held you too long today.
I had toys to pick up, lunch to eat, dishes to do, and my hair to wash/dry.
But, I held you too long.
The weight of your sleeping body in my arms coupled with the sound of your breathing made it impossible to put you down.
So, I held you too long.

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Four. Four is the number of expletives women who have asked me over the past year if I’m pregnant. Actually, that’s not true; two of those four people actually said, “When are you due?” and, “When is your due date?” while the other two asked if I was having another baby.

Let’s analyze that for a second. Two people just assumed that I was pregnant. There was no doubt about it for them. At least the other two, even though still completely inappropriate sought confirmation. These four all have something in common: lack of sense. I mean, they’re women! They should know better!

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Our lives are completely different. I work in an office; you work at home. My work includes meetings, emails, spreadsheets, and PowerPoint {So. Much. PowerPoint). Your work includes diapers, meals that end up on the floor, endless toy messes, and entertaining tiny dictators. I spend my days wishing I were with my kids. You spend yours enjoying yours {and battling them, too} but longing for adult interaction – sometimes feeling isolated and alone.

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You’re doing a great job. I know you need to hear that. Being away from your kids so much isn’t always an easy thing. In fact, it’s the hardest. But, I get you, Working Mom, because I am you.

The “Mom Guilt” you feel is real. I feel it, too. Do my kids know I love them? Do they see me enough? Am I giving them enough time and attention? Am I scarring them for life?

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