With all the daily hassle of work, arranging for childcare, budgeting what little money I have after monthly bills are met, I know exactly why I'm doing it all.
My girl is happy, and is a healthy, strong and independent child.
I wish I had more time. I wish I didn't feel as if I missed so much while working. I feel bad for missing Christmas parties, birthday parties and playdates. Sometimes I feel that Kole's teacher and the parents of her friends think that I'm this non-existent figure, who only sends her off to events with a gift and a grandparent or auntie.
I've forgotten to sign permission forms, send milk money and packed some pretty dismal lunches because I've forgotten to buy extras. Sometimes my weeks are just filled with the daily challenge of getting her to school, me to work, picking her up from a relatives and then heading straight to bed. No time for bedtime stories, no time for laundry, and no time for us, let alone just time for me.
But we are together when we can be. I've worked extra hours so that we can spend more time together during a long weekend. And on those days we just cuddle on the couch, read stories to each other and sing goofy songs. We build messy arts & crafts projects, and later head with the toboggan to the nearest snowy hill.
And at night, while she's breathing deeply and is curled up next to me, I can only wonder that I've had eight years of this privilege.
It's been difficult at times, but well worth it all.