Leaving Sproglet

There is a huge unmovable lump in my throat. A dreaded feeling in the pit of my stomach. I am damn excited to start work on Monday - in a job I will love and have waited a long time to get. But I have to leave Sproglet. Monday won't be so bad - he will be with husband. But the rest of the week, when I chomp a quick breakfast with him then race out the door and then only see him in time for a quick play, bath and bed, a gnawing feeling will eat away at me. A whole day will have passed and I will have missed all his new learning curves. Last summer when I worked at Emmerdale for a month, the first week was excruciating. Every day I raced home from the train station on my Aunt's bike and grabbed Sproglet the minute I saw him. I nuzzled and snuggled him, drank in his smell, took him to see the ducks and wept when I realised I hadn't seen him that day - having left for work before he had stirred.

Last night I craved him so much I brought him into bed with me. His wispy hair tickled my face and he moved round and round until I gave up my selfish needs to cuddle him to within an inch of his life and deposited him back in his cot. Husband woke me with kisses and we dashed into his room - a favourite hobby of ours - to watch our tot sleeping and marvel at how wonderful he is. Husband had had a few drinks and was in that soft mushy mood where he pontificates about how much he loves us both. I tell him how Sproglet came out for my child minder's b'day - and he planted a kiss on a little girl who took a shine to him. Then he ran off, having teased her with his affection. She duly chased him, never managing to secure another smacker. How he refused pizza but ate a tonne of dough balls. How he rejected the ice cream but opened his mouth wide for the toffee chunks. How his trousers fell down as he raced around the restaurant causing two tables to fall about laughing. We ooh and ahhh and go gooey for the little boy who has changed our lives forever.

Yesterday he ran between husband and I giving us liberal amounts of kisses. My heart swells so much I can't love anything more. I cannot believe I am so captivated and in love with him. Watching my boys together is my favourite pastime. What with husband's night hours, my day hours and his working on a Saturday we will have only Sundays together. I can't think about this too much as it makes me sad. I keep thinking of what my friend Justine said - and how I will look outside on a summer day and crave to be in the park, watching Sproglet negotiate climbing up the slide. I want to have a career - I need to be inspired and challenged and to converse with adults, work as a team. But my little boy pulls my heart strings and my ultimate commitment is to him. The eternal juggle begins. I am blessed to have had so much time with him, I know. But nothing - I mean nothing - tears you apart more, than the obligatory Motherhood guilt. Some days I cannot wait to drop him at his child minder's (she knows we are moving and cried 3 times last night, so upset to lose Sproglet) and other days we play in the park, watch Toy Story, eat cup cakes, play with trucks and read 'Where the Wild Things are' six times - and it is just bliss. I'm sure it will get easier. I'm sure I will learn to cope and juggle. But I'm bringing a few tissues with me next week - just in case.