Just thinking

I am at work, actually working (I swear) and I kind of got a little sidetracked. I literally have a shrine of photos of my children all over my desk and computer (I count five photos alone just taped to my monitor).

Yesterday was a tough day for me. I won't go into details because my boss and boss-to-be read my blog (you know you do!) but suffice it to say that sometimes I need a reality check of what is most important in life. Those photos of my beautiful children are the reminder of why I'm here. They bring me back to earth when I feel I am being swept away.

Being a working mother is, at times, the most difficult and frustrating job. It's one that you can never get right. It's the toughest job you'll never love.

Remember when you were a kid and you played "Red Rover Red Rover"? You held hands on one end of the field, and if you were lucky enough you were on the end, so the risk of a broken arm was reduced 50%.

You stood there, holding on as tight as you could.

Waiting. Watching. Hoping. Praying.

Suddenly, someone comes screaming across the grass, running as hard and as fast as they can, 5 seconds seems like a lifetime.

You stare, wide eyed, breathless, waiting to see where they will smash their body in the hopes of tearing apart those arms, holding strong together.

The best possible outcome is that someone else's arms linked to someone else's arms are separated and broken apart.

But sometimes, inevitably, it's your arms that get torn apart, no matter how hard you hold on.

And so it is being a working mother.