The Monday Blues

March 19, 2012

Leaving Althea in the morning is always hard, but Monday’s are harder.  She knows I’m getting ready to leave, and doesn’t want me to be apart from her.  She chases me around the kitchen crying, I get my lunch and breakfast ready one handed, babe in arms.  This morning she sat on me, across my belly, alternatively nursing and putting a cat toy ball in and out of an empty mini cardboard whiskey sleeve.  So proud of herself every time she successfully got it into the tube.  Crying, crying as I gave her the last kiss and hug and headed for the door, Daddy working hard to distract her with a game.  This morning she woke up on the adorable side of bed, and notched it up from there.  I tell her Mummy needs to work to keep a roof over her head, and cat toys to put into empty whiskey sleeves, but that really doesn’t matter does it.  Mummy needs to work, because Mummy works.  She doesn’t not work.  It is who I am.  But Mondays are hard, as I pump some more milk, the hormones cause me to tear up everytime, and I miss my little girl, who was mine for the whole weekend.  I watch this video, and can’t help but be cheered up, and look forward to tonight when she will be back, and she will be mine again.  More hugs, more kisses, more snotty noses wiped on my shoulder, more nursing, more little baby voice “Mummy”‘s.

The password is Althea.


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