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I have been working full time for a little over 4 months now and find myself going through the heart-wrenching phase of realizing that I am falling out of touch with my children.
My heart hurts.

I worry that they may never remember how I was always available to them at a moment's notice - no matter what...

I can no longer tell you how many green beans they ate at lunch or where that glob of 'what is that anyway?' on her forehead came from.
I don't know how it happened, but there are muddy footprints in the living room carpet. I do know those feet though- and for once, Jaron's muddy footprints make me smile...
I am slower to wipe the fingerprints off the glass doors nowadays.
I can't tell you the last time I built anything with Jaron out of Legos.
She can't wear clothes out of the little girl's section anymore - how did she grow up so quickly?

These are the types of sacrifices that you simply cannot put a price tag on.

I knew what I was signing up for when I took this job. The 'reasons' it was the right choice to make are still valid.

The truth? My mom was a fabulous stay-at-home mom and I don't remember any of the day-to-day stuff from my childhood. What I do remember is being overwhelmingly loved, certain of the fact that my parents were in my corner, and 100% secure because of that.

That, I can do.