It’s 5:30pm and here I lie in the bed I share with my husband. My 6 month old son snoring in his dump truck onesie next to me. Not the outfit he was wearing when I dropped him off at daycare, one more thing to apologize for. Later. His small hand wrapped tightly around my pinky, just dead to the world. Staring at his fat little face spilling over the sides of his pacifier, I’m filled with guilt. I need to apologize. Like now.
1. I’m sorry you are responsible for refueling my heart. No social workers can ever possibly explain the emotional weather they’ve experienced that day. In fact, I was going to throw an example in here from mine, but halfway through I decided my words just couldn’t do it justice. Every evening I’m slowly recharged with drooling, gummy grins and fat roll kisses (his rolls, not mine). And though I’m so thankful for him, it shouldn’t be his responsibility. For that I apologize.
2. I’m sorry I can’t raise you. Ok so that one’s kind of loaded. What I mean is I’m sorry I can’t be there with you every step of the way. I’m so thankful that all of his grandmas live in the same town as us and are able to provide child care really whenever we need it. But I wish we didn’t need it. I wish there was a way I could fulfill my role as a mother and my need to save all the babies in the world at the same time. So sorry baby boy.
3. I’m sorry that sometimes other kids will come before you. This is horrible to say but it’s the truth. Those afternoons we had planned to go for walks and just bask in each other’s scent (sounds weird but is so therapeutic for the both of us) will take the back burner when a tearful 6 year old is afraid to go home from school because of what his dad did this morning. For that I apologize.
4. I’m sorry that you will miss out. There will be times when you cannot go to your new friends birthday party at his house because mommy was in there last month and well, you just can’t. And we might have to leave the carnival early when I spot a client who has recently threatened my safety and doesn’t know about you. There will be times like this that are for your safety but just aren’t fair to you. Sorry buddy.
5. I’m sorry that you will probably see me completely lose my mind more than you should. I’m not an angry person, you will never see mommy violent. What you will see is your mommy ignore all household responsibility for any given amount of time so she can dance around and sing Disney songs and play tractors with you until she feels better. I promise you don’t have to eat that week old green bean from under the table, we will have real food for dinner sometimes. Look for the bare necessities.
6. I’m sorry that sometimes I won’t be able to be there for you. Physically or emotionally. I’m going to miss some home runs (so are you if you inherited my lack of athleticism). You’re going to have to take your scraped knee for a daddy kiss when I’m still at work or in bed with a migraine from logging on a computer all day. Just know I really want to be there for you.
I believe all working moms can relate to some of these points, but I know that all social worker moms feel every single one. I’m fortunate to have the ability to make a difference in children’s lives. Thank you to everyone who makes it possible. I’m sure I’ve got some apologies for you too.
By: Madison Ramsey
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