Another weekend come and gone, another very stressful weekend. Hubby was finally home after three weeks of various types of training, both for the Army and his job. So what did we decide to do with our family time? Finish moving boxes and furniture from storage! In 90 degree heat! Don't forget the thunderstorm.
No, really, it feels good now to be through, to have all of our belongings in one place. I even managed to get the books on the bookshelves, which freed up quite a bit of space in the family room. Hopefully, I'll be able to get my sewing things organized soon (my current sewing area will be in the dining room until we get the basement finished-the carpet is out, but we're at bare-bones status down there, and it's not very practical for me to sew where I can't keep an eye on the munchkin).
But the title of this post has to do with mommy guilt. I'm going back to work in a few weeks. This was the easiest, hardest decision we've made in awhile. The money is good and will help us get some of our debt under control, and allow us to live in a way we're comfortable with. The family the munchkin will be staying with during the day is a friend of hubby's from high school days, and the exposure to other kids will be good for him. The change of space will be good for me.
So why the guilty feelings? Because I'm a firm believer of raising my own child. Because I don't want to miss a moment of his growing up. Because I worry someone else can't care for him like me. All valid feelings. But I'm dealing with it ok for now. And it's not permanent. I don't have to do this job forever. It's only during the school year (working with special ed kids during the school day, a job I had before the munchkin was born).
Thanks for listening.