Working Mom

I know I have a good gig. I'm working three days a week. I'm trading child care with my husband. He is doing a great job. My six month old baby is adapting well to bottle feeding during the time I'm at work.

But I'm missing EVERYTHING!!

Wait, was that me? That sounded just like my four year old's whining. Sigh.

This weekend Tallulah went to a birthday party for one of her school friends at a gymnastics place. Normally I wouldn't whine about missing a children's birthday party, but the gymnastics place has teacher guided gymnastics play so the parents get to mill around and complete sentences with one another. Tallulah goes to a preschool where the parents really like their children and sometimes it's hard to complete sentences because they're always interacting with their kids instead of chatting with me. Bastards.

I really like the parents-- and their kids-- so I always want to talk more with them and it pisses me off that I couldn't go hang out.

AND some friends went to see Sex and the City without me this week because they wanted to go in the evening instead of for a matinee. I could have taken Moxie to a matinee because she'll just cuddle with me and stay quiet still (have I mentioned that she is the easiest baby ever?) but in the evening she needs quiet cuddles at home. And I don't want to leave her when I don't have to or give her more bottles than I have to because I'm leaving her and giving her bottles to go to work. So again, I miss out.

I've decided that anything cool that I miss out on is because of my stupid new job. Stupid. Which I think is starting to bug my friend, Robin, because everything she says she's doing, I immediately say, "Muh. I can't do that because I have to work." Even the things she isn't inviting me to do. [sorry robin!]

I'm missing things and I hate missing stuff.
I'm adjusting to a new schedule and I hate adjusting.
I'm being a responsible parent and I hate being responsible.

Muh.