I don't wanna go

I like things clean and neat. This is no secret to my husband, as I do a nine o'clock scan of our house every night. Making sure everything is in its proper place, that the counters are sprayed and wiped down, that the throw blanket is on the couch just so, and that there are no dishes in the dish dry.

I think there is a need in me to control the way my house looks because I have come to realize that the cleanliness of my home is really the only thing I have total control over. I don't know how many of you can relate, but no matter how hard I try, ultimately, I have come to learn that my life is totally out of my control. I have so many other variables (or people) that come before me, and situations that are almost thrown right at me on the daily, that I have accepted I do not have a grip on my own life, and probably won't until the very sunset of it.

I suppose my OCD, manifesting itself in the cleanliness of my home, is a way to feel some sort of power or say in some aspect of my life.

Being a working mom is the hardest thing I've ever done. Despite people's advice that it would get easier, it doesn't (not for me). Some mothers have even told me that it is good I work, because I can get away. I don't want a get away from my son. I want to spend every minute with him.

Momma is writing this post and crying like a toddler. Those two days I work, I mentally throw a tantrum. In my mind, the second I leave my son, I am on the floor banging and whaling my arms and legs, screaming "I don't wanna go!" It doesn't get easier, but the more I work, the more I see how important it is for us financially that I do. We have a baby now, and I want all the money I can save, saved. I want a bigger then life emergency fund, so that there is never a financial emergency. I never want him to be lacking, or have less than needed. He deserves more than the world, more then just enough, more then just getting by.

Growing up with a single mom, who had to work, I know what it is like from a very young age of 3 months to not have your mom. I know the pain, and the confusion, and the wondering why "momma can't stay." I promised myself that it would never be me, and here I am. My poor babe, at the young age of 3 months, is left with that pain and confusion. I am sobbing typing this. Life is not as simple as spraying down the counters, or putting the blanket on the couch just so, but to me the appearance that some how I have time, or that things are normal, or just that simple, make me feel just a little bit better.

In just a few months this struggle of leaving my son, the burden it is, the constant heartbreak will be removed. I know that "this too shall pass." With an end date in sight, it is just around the corner, only a few more months away. How blessed I am to have a job. So blessed we are to have found one I love, with a great boss and coworkers, only two days a week, and what a rewarding career it is. Even more blessed that soon I will not have to work, that I know next summer I can be a stay at home mom, just like I'd dreamed.

Until then my OCD will continue, my home spotless, my mental tantrums ongoing, and my loving babe perfectly as dreamy as ever.