I have made a decision. I have a four-day work schedule and I have used that day to stay home with baby girl and get a lot of errands done. I can no longer do this. She has to go to daycare. Stat.
And I am not even going to feel guilty about it. So there. In fact, I may start every Wednesday morning in a cafe with a mocha and drink it in uninterrupted silence, unapologetically. And I will have a Jude Law look-a-like as my Barista. I will also not gain any weight from said mocha. Okay, so just the first part is true, unless Jude Law has actually been getting all those letters…
You might think, how lazy can a mother be that she can’t even hack one day with her kid? To which I say, you have not met my daughter. She is lovely about 80% of the time. It is the other 20% that can make you run into a corner of a room and try to rock yourself to sleep.
At first when I thought of this, voices of Sanctimommies everywhere told me what an awful idea it was and how it was a cop out to send my kid to daycare when I am lucky enough to have a day a week with her. But consider this: I would much rather spend grateful, happy quality time with Sofia, than trudge through a day with her whilst in constant battle and angst. I do not want her memories of me to be frazzled, heinous, and hanging by a thread. More importantly, I do not want to set the example that being a good parent means utter self-sacrifice all the fucking time. I will save that for the rest of my week.
Wednesdays are for me. And Jude. (And grocery shopping.)