Hey you…. Ya, you …. You women who decided I needed rights, and to vote, go to college, and to be treated as an equal in the work place. Thanks… Kinda.

Let me explain the “kinda”… I get the whole I am woman hear me roar business. I believe that my ideas are just as good and probably sometimes (most of the time) better than a man’s. I realize that my voice should count. I vote in every election because I don’t want your work to be in vain. I went a couple rounds at the college thing and as soon as I figure out what the hell I want to be when I grow up I intend to go a couple more. And I work hard 5 sometimes 6 days a week to make sure my co workers respect me and subsequently see me as their equal.

But you know what… now I have all of that outside the home responsibility AND all of the in the home responsibility. I hear your arguments. I know I chose to have my son and I have that option because women fought to give me that right. And I love them for that. But women are still women and men are still men. And damn it if I still don’t feel all of that domestic pressure. I am the nurturer. It is who I am. As a woman. And I am and always have been attracted to the provider type of guy. I appreciate that mentality of wanting to bring home the bacon. It really does it for me. *wink wink.

It’s just trying to balance it all. I have debt. (gasp) and rent, and a car payment, and I have to work. Not working is not an option. My income is important to my financial and mental health. I am also a single mom. Yes I have a boyfriend. And yes Hank’s father pays support but I buy the groceries. I put shoes on his feet. I put gas in my car. Me and my little ole one person income we do it all. (Well not all, thank God (and B), but a whole hell of a lot)

So I get up Monday through Friday (sometimes Saturday) and I go to work. But I hate that I cannot be at home with Hank. I hate that I am rushing for my family to eat dinner by 7. I hate that I depend on my paycheck like people depend on oxygen. I know I am not alone. Moms work. My mom did, your mom probably did. And even if she didn’t work outside the home she sure as hell worked inside it. I just have a hard time wrapping my mind around having to do it all. And when I let myself go to the dark, dark place where all of my uncrossed-off items on old to do lists linger and are ready to pounce at a moment’s notice I just want to quit my job and run away.

I want to just be a mom. A mom who has dinner ready by 5:30 and gets to take her kid on a walk every afternoon, who has her own garden (I have a black thumb this will never be possible but I won’t give up hope) who offers to help with pick up for the working mom, who drops off and picks her son up from school on time every time, who doesn’t have to check a damn piece of paper to see what her son had for breakfast AND lunch.

But I can’t. I am not that mom. I am the mom who pays the bills, makes sure we at least eat something before we fall asleep, the mom who washes the dishes a day or two late, the mom who has a very dependable boyfriend and co worker turned confidant who, at least three of five days a week, helps me make sure my child arrives safely at his destination, the mom who would cry if her crock pot died because she depends on it to feed her family, a mom who works a job she doesn’t love because she has to nurture and provide.

I am thankful I have a job. I am thankful I have people to support, encourage, and help me. I am thankful that we don’t have to rely on assistance. (Not that I have any judgment for those who do. I would do whatever I had to, to take care of my family including asking for help) I am thankful for so many things but I am also human and I feel the need to be there for my son, the urge to be the one who nurtures his little mind, the desire to wear an apron and make dinner every night. BEFORE 6pm.

That just isn’t my reality. And this week it has been hard to deal with that. Hank is growing and changing so fast and I just feel like I am missing it. That working and paying bills and paying for my mistakes (debt) from my past is stealing the time I have with my son. But I can’t live there. I can’t live in a place of regrets and what ifs. I have to live in the here and the now.

We have a routine, we have family, we have a roof, four walls, a car, and we have LOVE. So much love. Hank knows I love him. He knows I love him when I am at home and I love him when I am away. I know that I chose the right person to care for my son during the day. Hank knows it too because the kid is so freaking happy every time we walk in Mrs. Ann’s door he runs to her.

I will probably always feel a twinge of guilt about not being able stay home and raise my boy but I will not and cannot let it be what I remember about his childhood. I want to remember his laugh, his cry, his smile, his favorite toy, his joy, his love, his hopes, his dreams, when he loses that first tooth, his first day of kindergarten, his last day of high school, I want to remember it all. And to do that I don’t have room for the guilt. I refuse to let it take me over. I am a mom. I work. I’m dealing with it.