Yesterday was a long day. Kennedy got some kind of rogue stomach bug and started throwing up sometime around 9:30. No fever, acting normal, puking buckets… seriously, and they all ended up on me. Of course, David was out of town so she came to work with me. She had too, my company policy is to use every last bit of vacation and sick time you have during maternity leave… so I’ve got nothing left. They’re smart, really.
So, I tried to work and the she threw up on me 3 or 4 times… Buckets. I was gross, she was gross… It was gross. So, I went home and tried to take care of my baby girl, but I was stressed the whole time because all the crap-that-doesn’t-matter that HAD to be done for work loomed over my head.
I don’t like being pulled in 2 different directions when 1 is infinitely more important than the other. I don’t like feeling like I can’t cuddle her when she’s sick. I don’t like feeling like my work takes priority over her.
When I look back on my life I guarantee you I won’t care who I worked for, what my title was, or how much money I made. Stupid, worldly things that no one else remembers and don’t matter for eternity. I will care about the cuddles, and I’ll remember days full of
puke, and I’ll regret not being 100% there for her when she needed me.