You don’t know what you’re missing

But, I do know what I’m missing. Maggie is in school 3 days a week now and I work 3 mornings a week. Being in school is so good for her; she is gaining confidence, making friendships and discovering she can be fine when she away from mom. Of course, she can also get those same benefits from dance and soccer. But, so far, she is enjoying her school, a carefully chosen preschool with a play-based curriculum.
I miss her, though. This morning, after the big kids were in school and the dishes were done, we took Sadie for a walk. We looked at the leaves changing color. We marveled at the way the wind blew the trees and shook the branches and made the white clouds scurry through the blue sky. We scouted for jewel-weed and Maggie giggled so loudly and sweetly when we popped the tiny seed pouches in her hand. I thoroughly and completely enjoy her company and I know exactly what I am missing when she goes to school and I rush off to work.
I miss talking to her about everything from weather to politics. I miss her pulling out her little broom to sweep beside me while I use the big one. I miss the smell of whatever we decided to bake that morning wafting through the house, and even the mess of the paint or the glue we dragged out to do “projects.” I miss the chance to do laundry with her, laughing as she takes over loading the machine, adding soap and pushing the start button. “No, no mom, I got this!” she always says. And she does.
I feel blessed because I was able to stay home with the kids. We made choices, the right choices for us, and staying home was a gift we gave to each other. All the muffins we baked, the endless pushes on the swings, the cuddles on the couch, the luxuriously long naps in the big bed, the many, many books we read, all those delicious, divine, fleeting moments I would have missed if I had to rush off to work. The ones I am missing now every day that she goes to school and I rush off to work.

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