You do the math

Let me preface this rant with the following: I love my son. I love my life.

What I do not love is feeling like I'm not worthy of it. That I'm not doing enough in every single little aspect of it. That I'm not worthy of my supermom cape.

I wake up at 5:30 each morning, get myself ready, get H ready, and run out the door to daycare. I then fight an hour of traffic to get to work, where I deal with the standard office antics and bs, as well as pump twice. I then fight the same traffic the opposite direction, whisking H away from the center around 5:30 pm. We get home, I quickly feed him dinner, we have 15 minutes to chat and chill, then it's into the bath, into the pjs, and into dreamland (or into an hour-long fight as he tries to convince me 4-month-olds don't need sleep). Then I head downstairs, clean the house up, throw something in for dinner, clean the pump equipment, make bottles for the next day, and crash on the couch just long enough for W to come home and sit with me for 30 before I fall asleep.

This is not right. I am not spending enough time with my son. Poor W hardly gets to see him at all during the week. W and I have no time alone aside from heart-to-heart at 3 am when he swats me and mumbles "The baby wants you." I'm in and out of work as quickly as I can be and I'm worried I'm slacking there now because of it. I need another hour or two. I need a teleporter. I need a drink.

I've submitted a proposal to work to allow me to leave the office by 2 pm and work the last few hours from home. While this may not look like the way to become a better employee, having time with my son will make me happier and less crazy-eyed, so they would get that benefit. It's the only way I can currently see this working. H sets his bedtime and he has moved it up, and my job is to faciliate that. Hell, my job is to move mountains if he asks nicely.

So that's the sit. Cross your fingers and toes that something pans out. If not ...