I am sitting in Starbucks at a loss for what to write about this week. Which is weird because I usually have plenty of stories to recount to you about parenthood as I am experiencing it. But my daughter stayed at my sister’s house for most of the week so she has all the stories about my daughter and I got nada.

So here I am at my local coffee shop doing my favorite thing – something that I haven’t done in ages – people gazing. In particular, I am staring in envy at a mom across from me. She is attractive, well put together, and TAN. In February. In Connecticut. What I wouldn’t give for a vacation somewhere on a warm beach right now! I also cannot believe my eyes at the angel baby, who I am guessing is no more than eight months old, sitting calmly in her lap for the past twenty-five minutes. I cannot help but compare this darling cherub to Mia when she was that age who never, EVER sat still. Hell, I can’t even sit still. I have already gotten up to go to the bathroom twice thanks to my grande Tazo tea! TMI, I know.

As I enjoy this rare, quiet moment, I do feel grateful for being a mom. But the working mom part? Sometimes it is so exhausting that I wonder if it would be easier to quit my career so I can spend more time with my daughter. When my brain starts thinking this way, I turn to my gut for reassurance and trust that I am doing the right thing by being a working mom.

Here is what I’m telling myself:

*I would be giving up a career that I love and worked really, really hard to achieve.

*My child needs a roof over her pretty little head. That also means sparing my husband the stress of being the sole provider for our family.

*My daughter needs a mentally healthy mother who interacts with adults on a regular basis. When I was home on maternity leave for eight months, I felt a bit lonely.

*My parents sacrificed so much so that I can have an education. I am ensuring the same for my daughter.

*Mia is doing amazing and doesn’t need her mother by her side 24/7.

*The work I do is meaningful and helps our family tremendously.

So now it is time for me to gather my things and head for home. I have dinner to prepare, a bath to give, and precious play and story time with my daughter. I leave here feeling beyond blessed and as I look over my shoulder before I walk out the door, I notice that baby is STILL sitting quietly and sweetly in her mother’s lap. Nonetheless, I cannot wait to get home to my crazy and fiercely independent daughter.

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