Friday, April 24, 2015

I'm Not A Part-Time Mom

I drove by London's daycare, earlier this week, and saw him waiting by the window for me. His little hands were pressed against the glass and his eyes scanned the street looking for my car. It's the way he often greets me at the end of the day except it wasn't my day to pick him up.


I went for a run and cried. I had my music turned up, as loud as it could go, but nothing could drown out my sobbing.


Before his dad and I separated, I dropped London off, and picked him, every day. I was the one who, in the beginning, wiped away his tears, peeled his arms off my legs, and promised him he would have fun. I would be strong, until I got in the car, and then my tears would start flowing. I missed him and I worried about him. 

It got easier until it got harder again.

Now, pickup and drop offs are split 50/50. Our limited time together (5pm to 8pm bedtime) is now cut in half.  

Something I've struggled with lately is trying to find my identity as a mother again. I went from doing (almost) everything to having more alone time than I would ever know what to do with. 

I also struggled with what I should call myself.

Am I a single mom? Am I a part-time mom? What am I?

Honestly, I don't want any of those titles.


 I just want to be London's mommy. 

London is the first thing I think about before I go to sleep and as soon as I wake up. Every day he's not with me, I worry about him; I wonder, if he's brushed his teeth, what he's having for breakfast and if he's wearing jacket to play outside. I worry if he needs his nails cut, if he has drank enough water and, mostly importantly, if he feels loved and happy. 

I worry about where he thinks I am, if he looks for me when he needs comforting and how these changes will affect him in the future.  He told his daddy "I just want to go home. The one with mommy and daddy." He's also started to ask for a baby sister now too. I never imagined he would be an only child. 

I always have a purse full of diapers, wipes, snacks and juice boxes. 

I have a calendar filled with his appointments, fun activities I've planned for us and important days at daycare.

I have his photos plastered on my desk, all over my social media sites and hundreds stored in my phone.

So, even though I'm not with him as much as I want to be I know that doesn't change who I am.


I will always be his mommy.

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