"Mama, you're here," she said, hugging me tightly. "I'm so glad you're here."
We snuggled on the floor together as the other kids slowly woke up and I gathered her in my arms to enjoy the rest of a wonderful day.
On Wednesday, I arrived later due to an afternoon parent meeting. When she saw me her face broke out in the loveliest expression of pure happiness. I thought my heart might burst at that moment, I was so incredibly happy to see my little love.
On Friday, the last day of my full week off from work, she waved to me, her hand obscured by the white blanket. I waved and crept over to her. A song by Fiona Apple that I love called "I Know" played quietly on a nearby radio. I scooped my girl into my arms for a wonderful embrace and quietly sang the lovely words from the song "And you can use my skin, to bury secrets in. And I will settle you down."
"You're here for me," Eliza said. "Mama I'm so glad you came home. You came to come get me."
Monday is the last day I'll pick Eliza up from school for a while. On Wednesday, I have to attend a production meeting for work (absolute, complete waste of time) and on Friday I'll be back on set. Though I love the paycheck and the ability to get out of the house, this job is not working out for me. I accepted it knowing it was a big experiment and now I'm sad to say tis really has to be it. I realize I'm fortunate to have a week and a half off every month but I work 65-72 hours the weeks that I do work. Getting home on Saturday morning at 5am, 6am, even 9:30 am only to return to work at 6:30 am on Monday is too difficult for me. I work with people older than myself who do this every day, no week and a half off, without difficulty. They commute from Connecticut and work these kind of hours on a regular basis.
I can't though. I still feel like I'm recovering from last week at work. Forget that I went three days without seeing my daughter even though we worked in the area, I can't see myself working these kind of hours ten years from now. It's a good job, I'm lucky they let me job share but I have to recognize my own physical limitations.
And while I hope to find a job, one that won't enable me to pick my daughter up from school for an entire week, I have to believe that another job will at least allow me the ability to see my daughter's wonderful face every night. When I can walk through the door and say "Mama's home."