I’ve been absent from Attachment Mama for 2 weeks now.  I’d like to put a PR spin on it for you, but the reality is — my transition back to work has been no cake walk for our family and I’ve been too tired to maintain my midnight blog posting routine. I’m working out a new system so that I can remain faithful to this important creative outlet and get some much needed rest.

After looking at four different preschools with summer programs in Austin, we finally decided on a summer camp which is conveniently either a nice stroller walk or a 3-5 minute drive from our house. The camp doesn’t start until Monday. So my first few weeks on the job, I opted to have my Eldest stay at her school until 5:00 and get baby-sitting support from a friend for my Littlest.  This past week with school out and both girls at home, I’ve had minimal baby-sitting support and had to tell the guys that I simply wasn’t going to be available.

Finding the childcare that we felt good about has been stressful for sure — but the bigger stress has been fretting about all the separation. Their feelings. My feelings. All of us missing each other.

Double tears in the morning. Double melt-downs in the evening that last off and on for 2 hours. A new trend of grouchy, demanding toddler talk with frequent hitting and kicking spells. Me considering returning to night-nursing because of my sadness and guilt that my connection with my almost 2 year-old baby is so minimal. Complete Sleep Fairy Bomb. My 3 year-old dropped all interest in the fairies in favor of me lying with her until she falls asleep again.  She had grown out of the need for parental pre-sleep spooning when she turned 2 — so it’s been over a year 1/2 since we’ve had that routine.  And I willingly accepted the regression.

The other night when I thought it would be safe for me to leave her bed before she fell asleep since we’d had so much time to connect over the long weekend, she started to weep, begging me not to go.

I said, “Sades, I’m just going to be downstairs and do some work on my computer and then I’ll be back to sleep with you for the rest of the night.”

In between sobs she cried, “Mommy please go really fast.”

“OK sweetie, I’ll be as fast as I can.”

“As (sob) fast (sob) as (sob) a cheetah, ok?”  Sniff. Sniff.

My cheetah days are long gone.  The last time I moved my body rapid-fast was when I saw Izzy falling off one of our bar stools and I moved like lightening to catch her mid-air.  Mark who witnessed the save was stunned and said, “Wow – I don’t think I’ve ever seen you move that fast!”

But in response to her tearful request, I said with a stoic straight face:

“Yes sweet angel. I’ll work like a cheetah and come back to you really fast.”

And she let me go.

Being at Whole Foods has been inspiring and invigorating in many ways and I’ve experienced unexpected sadness whenever I take a lunch break in the store by myself.

So much of what I’ve loved about Whole Foods in recent years has been sharing the food exploration experience with Sadie. She might love that place as much as I do now. We dance in the isles together if they’ve got a good 80′s tune playing (which is often at our store), we relish in indulging in every single sample they offer, and she reminds me of things we need that I’ve forgotten. (She’s always right.)

The first two weeks of work it was all I could do to get both girls ready for the day with their lunches prepped and get us out the door by 8:00 a.m.  I consistently forgot to pack my own lunch and would think, “Ah well, I’ll just grab something at the store.”

And every time I left the corporate office and went downstairs to the store to buy something I would inevitably see a mother shopping with her baby. By the end of the second week with all the emotions exploding on the home front every day, my ability to contain it all began to crumble.  I ran into a friend in the prepared food section one day and within a second of her asking, “How are you?!” I started crying in front of fifty other shoppers.  Good times.

Now I’m not so naive to believe that being apart from my girls will always feel this hard. I find myself remembering something one of my best friends said to me about working full-time when you have small children.  She said, “You just have to detach; that’s how you deal with it.”

I understand what she means now and I still find myself clinging to the possibility that some level of attachment parenting and working can co-exist.

My work in its current form means too much time apart. I’m attempting to give 30 hours/week to Whole Foods and 8-10 hours/week to a copy-writing client. I’m not willing to give up my consulting business altogether because it pays considerably more. In order to do both well translates into more than 40 hours/week because most people, including myself, are incapable of being 100% productive for 8 hours straight a day.

For right now, it’s important for me to keep going as is to get momentum going on income generation. And I hold the intention of ultimately finding a better balance of time apart from my girls where I can stimulate my mind and bring home some bacon, and time together that is a more than just breakfast, dinner, and bed-time stories.

My apologies for abandoning the Attachment Mama ship the past few weeks!  I fully intend to return to “regular programming” next week with articles that are less about me and my rambling back-to-work angst and more in service of my fellow Mamas (and Daddy’s too!).

Much Love to Everyone!!