R and I headed to my parents last week. I was panicked, it was raining, nothing was seeming to go right. R was awful on the plane. Screaming, screeching, crying, wouldn’t sit still. We got to our destination, and I could breathe again. We had a wonderful visit. Even the plane ride back wasn’t as bad. R napped and didn’t scream.
I got to do actual thinking while I was there. I’ve decided to finish the course I’m currently in, and get a part-time job. R can go to daycare 3 days a week. He’ll see other kids, it’ll be good for him. For both of us.
It’s hard to admit. I’m not cut out for this stay at home mom business. I feel guilty and awful about it. I know, logically, that doing this will make me not so frazzled, I’ll appreciate my time with R more, and he will be okay. That doesn’t make it any easier.