Consider my enthusiasm curbed

This post has nothing to do with the show Curb Your Enthusiasm. I’ve never even seen that show. But, I know a thing or two about enthusiasm. And also the curbing of things. And just curbs. And carbs.

But that’s really not the point I’m trying to make.

People?

I am having trouble mustering up enthusiasm about being back at work so soon. And the lack of enthusiasm is giving me a bad attitude.

And I’ll be the first to admit this before anyone goes around saying “Hey…uh…so what’s up with Miranda and the awful attitude?”

It’s bad. And I know it’s bad. And I’m doing everything I can to NOT have a bad attitude, but today I wasn’t successful in my endeavors.

Mostly it’s bad because when I’m there, my heart is up the street. I’d rather have Joshua driving me completely bananas for an entire day and be able to steal a few sweet cuddles than be left with what I’ve got now, which is neither.

He didn’t want me to put him down this morning, favoring the familiar comfort of my arms to the unfamiliar new routine we started.

I didn’t want to put him down and have to walk away. I didn’t want to let him go.

The daycare owner came into the room and took him from my arms and turned away from me. I didn’t even get the chance to really say goodbye before he was swept away from me and moving toward the rest of the children.

Hot tears streamed down my face as I walked out the front door and toward my car.

I put up a few pictures of him in my classroom and I checked my phone frequently for a text from his teacher to let me know how the morning was going. I imagined him playing on the playground and the red mud I’d find on his shorts. I wondered if he was eating well. If he was being loved on enough. If he was having a good time with his friends.

I wondered if he missed me. If I crossed his little tiny toddler mind.

And then this afternoon, I went in and heard his familiar little voice exclaim, “Mama!” as he ran over to me, his face all lit up. I grabbed him up and we gave kisses and I told him I loved him and missed him.

Then he said “Iwa you, Mama.”

And then my heart broke a little bit.

There is not one single, solitary thing about this that is easy for me right now.