The worst part of being a working mother

Aaron had to have some dental work done today. He was really nervous about it, as was I. I understand his nerves, but I'm not quite sure where mine came from.

Anyway, Mike initially took him to the dentist last week when I was in San Angelo. It was a new dentist; I hated missing the chance to meet her, yada yada yada. Anyway, he needed some work done, and so Mike set up the appointment for today. Today? Not a good day for me to take Aaron to the dentist (I usually do the dr. appointment thing if I can), but today I had matters in court that I really had to be at. "I was planning on taking him," Mike assures me. Okay, fine. Fine until today that is, when I couldn't be there. And I knew that my baby was there, and he was nervous, and I wasn't there with him. It didn't matter that Mike is a phenomenal, nurturing dad, and he was there. It didn't matter that I had thought to send Duglin, Aaron's ragtag little bear I made him, to keep him company. It didn't matter that I had called and talked to him beforehand to tell him I loved him and that it was all going to be okay. It didn't matter that I wouldn't have even been in the room with him in the first place.

What mattered was that I was at work, and he was having to do something that scared him, and that I wasn't there for him. Not because I didn't love him. Not because I didn't want to be. But because I was busy helping other people's kids, instead of being there to help my own.

The hardest part about it is that I know the job that I do is an important one, and that I really was needed today. And I'm good at my job. I care, I'm diligent, I have pretty good judgment. And most days a little bit of God given wisdom.

But today, the being needed by other people's children was a pale substitute for being needed by my own, and not being able to be there.