November 15 11

As I run out the door in the morning I spy a pink tutu skirt and a pair of white tights out of the corner of my eye.

Did Isabella wear that yesterday? 

And that hits me harder than any gut punch could ever.

I have absolutely no idea what Isabella wore to school yesterday.

It’s not the first time this has happened, and it certainly won’t be the last time. It’s interesting, though, that this is what stands out in my mind—the clothes—as an entire day went by and I missed it all. I don’t know what she ate for breakfast, who she sat with on the bus, who she played with at recess. I don’t know if she took a shower or a bath, or if she is even clean at all. I don’t know what she had for dinner, if she begged for dessert, what Full House episode she watched. I don’t know what book she read at bedtime.

Missed. An entire day missed.

It doesn’t really matter, in that moment when I spy the tutu, what sort of day I had. If my hair looked particularly good, if I fit into my skinniest jeans, if I took my Greens+, if I finished a daunting task at work ahead of schedule, if I had great networking conversations, if I had epiphanies, if amazing things happened on the subway.

It doesn’t matter.

Because all I can think about is that damn pink tutu skirt.

  1. Well, now I wish i had a pink tutu skirt so i could go to work in it.

    I am 4’11″, I am allowed to dress like a child sometimes, right? That’s the rule?


    Comment by Mari on November 15, 2011
  2. :( The only reason that I know what Ella wears to daycare every day is because I lay it out the night before so that my husband can dress her in the a.m. I am usually out of the house 45 minutes before my sweet bunny wakes up. The working mom gig is tough, but I am guaranteeing you that you are a great role model for Isabella and all your kids – holding down a full time job, and being there for them when you are at home.

    The skirt is awesome.


    Comment by Jen on November 15, 2011
  3. Hugs, Ali. I hear you. xoxo


    Comment by Angella on November 15, 2011
  4. Well, the good thing is that Isabella will tell you all these things! And you will listen intently. And THAT is what matters. They won’t notice the times you aren’t there because you ARE there for them all the time. I’ve seen it. Those kids love you just as much as you love them!



    Comment by Kristabella on November 15, 2011
  5. I hear ya, sistah. They grow so fast and I want to hang on while I can because all too soon there will come a day when I’m not the coolest mom around and they will avoid my kisses and duck out of my hugs.


    Comment by Sharon on November 15, 2011
  6. SIGH. Love you lady.


    Comment by Meghan on November 15, 2011
  7. I get this more than I can say. My kids spend 50% of the time with their dad. I have found…they’ll always share if I ask. Ask her about her yesterday. She’ll tell you.

    Hugs Ali. I know missing things is just plain hard.


    Comment by Issa on November 15, 2011
  8. Working outside of the home is damn hard. I love days off, when I’m the one at home doing breakfast, getting the kids dressed, and off to school, enjoying all the conversations. I do start at 7 now most days so I’m able to do school pick-up. That is important to me. I’m riddled with mommy guilt most days. I do lay out the outfits the night before, which I realize is probably not something I’d be able to do if my boys were girls!
    Oh, and? I love the pink tutu skirt. :)


    Comment by Loukia on November 15, 2011
  9. Happens to me all the time :( It’s hard to be a mama sometimes. I’m out the door in the morning and often don’t get back until 5-6pm. We just try and make up for it on the weekend.


    Comment by Marianne on November 16, 2011
  10. Oof. This one hit me right in the gut because I so know what you mean…


    Comment by Sarahviz on November 17, 2011
  11. That was me in 2009/2010. 60-hour weeks, rarely seeing my kids awake. So hard. I don’t think there’s anything harder on a parent.


    Comment by Mrs. Wilson on November 17, 2011
  12. [...] I had thought it was going to get better—the long commute, the long days, the tireds, the stress, the being away from my family. But instead of getting better, it got worse. I lost weight, I was moody, my hair started falling out like I was a goddamn Golden Retriever. And then came the pink tutu. [...]

    Pingback by » Three Looks Cheaper Than Therapy on November 23, 2011

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