I’m now over a year in working from home, and a year as a full-time working mom. It does get easier, but then harder in different ways. The first few weeks my son was in daycare, it felt like I was missing a limb. And in truth I was, but more like a Kangaroo pouch, since I wore William hours a day for the first six months of his life. It now aches less to say goodbye each morning and stings less to see how happy he is at daycare.
I have noticed that during my rare breaks during the workday, I find myself wandering into William’s nursery. I spend a few minutes straightening the books on his shelf, laying out his jammies for bedtime, and completing other small tasks. I tell myself that I am making the bedtime and morning routines more manageable by doing this, but that isn’t true. I do it in a small way to prove to myself – that I’m still a mom even when working full-time.
I’m not a religious person, but am familiar with the term penance. It’s defined as “voluntary self-punishment inflicted as an outward expression of repentance for having done wrong.” These small asks are my form of penance, or act of service, to show my love for my son when we’re apart.