No Mommy Hondo

Before I had kids, the only Spanish I knew was “cerveza” (beer), “gracias” (thank you) and “la cuenta, por favor” (check, please). Obviously, my trips to Spanish speaking countries were very focused.

Now my vocabulary includes “donde esta la pelota?” (where’s the ball?), “sucio” (dirty) “cuidado” (careful) -- and “hondo” (work). The actual word for work is “trabajar,” which is conjugated in a way that sounds like TRA-VA-HONDO, at least it is in my house. I don’t even speak Spanish – our nanny does and I hope August and Finley will, too. My point in explaining all this is that every day, August and Finley look at me and say, “No Mommy hondo,” meaning “Don't go to work, Mommy.” And it breaks my heart.

Maybe I read too much into their constant requests for me not to work, but each time they say it I feel like I am failing as a mother. 

Yesterday, "No Mommy hondo," was the last thing Finley said to me before I left for work. It was the first thing he said when I got home at 5:30 p.m., and it was the last thing he said to me as he was going to sleep. It physically hurts me to hear it. 

To be clear, Finley and August don’t cry as I walk out the door each morning. They yell, “bye!” and squirm away when I give them hard hugs and smooches all over. They have great days filled with lots of socializing, activities and play.

I spend every waking moment of my life either at work or with my children. I rarely see friends. I quit the gym. My husband and I have had only a handful of date nights in two years. Outside of the nine or so hours a day that I work and commute, I live and breathe my sons—yet I still feel like I am irreparably harming them by leaving them with our (super awesome) nanny five days a week.

Please, someone tell me that I am crazy, that it's normal and fine and well, just life.

Earlier this year, I lost my job. I was disappointed and scared, and yet it was the best thing that happened to me in ages. For four months I had time to get to know August and Finley so much better. I could understand their language more easily. I read them more stories. I was relaxed with them. We played and explored new activities. We had more play dates. It was spectacular.

But to pay the mortgage and the bills, a lady's got to work. I have a new job now that I really, really enjoy. It gives me peace of mind because I do something that contributes positively to the world. Also, I don’t have to check my blackberry the minute I wake up, before bed and every other moment in between the way I once did. I work with nice, smart people. I take lunch breaks. I leave most days at 5 p.m. Also, I realize that I am incredibly blessed to have a job at all, let alone a good one.

I also believe that working makes me a better mother. I am more fun, more calm, more patient and loving because I have some time away from my kids. I just wish it wasn’t quite so much time. These years are flying by like clouds on a windy day. I don’t want to miss them.

And I can’t shake the look on August and Finley’s faces when they say, “No Mommy hondo.