Where Did The Time Go?

Is that right? I was looking at the calendar. Has it been sixty days already?

It was the weekend before September 4, the dreaded date when my maternity leave ended and I'd have to go face the daily grind of work again.

No! My innards were practically screaming. It's too soon. Just when I've started to cement my relationship with Woog. Just when I've started to discover the wonder that is Eli. Just when I've started to tackle the labyrinthian nightmare that is the storage cabinet.

Still, I succumbed to the mad scramble of unearthing my Monday to Thursday office uniforms for pressing, clearing out my handbag of baby wipes, discarded feeding bottle covers and an ancient unused diaper, and finally finding the time to shine my office shoes. Gadzooks, I'd have to pack my milk pumping equipment, too!

What a hassle. I'd much rather stay at home. Nurturing my sons, cleaning, rearranging. Even welcoming my husband home like a seasoned housewife (As if!). And to think I was actually entertaining the idea of attempting to learn how to cook.

I thought there'd be plenty of time. But there never really is, is there? At least not for the things that really matter. Like continuing to rebuild Woog's self-esteem, or pampering Atch with a cold beer and a back rub whenever he got home from work. Or even snorting into Eli's tummy just to listen to those heavenly gales of breathless laughter. Instead my days have been filled with managing my new household (which was finally mine, mine, all mine!).

And now...I have to go back to work. Back to an all too necessary reality.

Basically, I'm a very hindsightful person. Which means to say I look back too much at past actions and pull my hair out at their figurative roots thinking about what I should have done instead. These past sixty days were supposed to be allotted to bonding with my family (*yank-yank-yank*), but somehow, I ended up filling my to-do list with household tasks (*yank-yank-yank*), just like a freaking house-a-holic. I am filled to the brim with good intentions, but like the froth bubbling over on a mug of beer, they evaporate all too soon.

Still, I try to console myself: Woog's doing better. There've been no major episodes at home or complaints from his teacher so far. Eli's thriving. And Atch. Well, he's still himself, as always. I may be going to work soon, and I may have to strive double-time to find quality family moments, but I'll make it. I have to. And I will.

And there's always room for good intentions, isn't there?

September 2006