Guilt of a Working Mom

ReeRee will be two years old next month.  It’s hard to believe she is growing up so fast.  It is also hard to believe, we have been shifting from one babysitter to another every 3 months.  Last summer, while still on the bottle, ReeRee refused to eat for the sitter.  I would run down over lunch (when I was in the office) and feed her a bottle, so she could make it until that afternoon, when I would pick her up.  The last babysitter was kind and understanding, as ReeRee would wail, sob for “Mommeeeeeeee”, and make my heart sick as I left.  And at 8:30 am, we had been through this once already leaving the house and “Daaadeeeeeee.”

Currently, we have no babysitter, so Grammy has offered to watch ReeRee for the summer.  ReeRee loves Grammy’s house, which I love, because we no longer have the wailing or refusal to eat. 

My guilt as a working mom was almost forgotten.  My guilt as a diabetic who would always work- if not for the health insurance, for the money to pay for prescriptions.  Then as we were packing the diaper bag one morning for Grammy’s house, ReeRee broke my heart with three words. 

“Mommee.”  “ReeRee.”  “Home?”

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One thought on “Guilt of a Working Mom

  1. Pingback: Creating English | Chickens on the Road, Pancreas in the Ditch

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