Life has been busy recently. Exciting, crazy and busy and I'd allowed myself to be lulled into a false sense of security about my work/life balance.
Ignoring the suitcases under my eyes and the fact that I still only have time to put make-up on every few days, I was feeling as though I was actually doing okay with the juggling act. The boys were doing well, I felt quite on top of work and I was even managing to do a few bits and pieces for the Williams Syndrome Foundation.
So of course, in timely fashion, guilt came a-tapping on my shoulder this morning, demanding that I remember it's presence and spend a bit of time wallowing in it.
It came in the form of a rather upset little boy who hadn't seen his Mummy for a little while as I'd had a couple of later nights at work which meant I hadn't been home in time for bedtime, and was topped off by the fact that I went to the Netherlands for the day yesterday to see some colleagues. It was an important visit, we accomplished a fair amount and I enjoyed seeing them. Unfortunately, it meant that I was out of the house before C woke up and home after her went to bed.
So this morning started at 5.50am with him clambering into bed with me (which is rather unusual as these days he tends to just go and thunder around downstairs). This was swiftly followed by him coming to the shower with me, watching me get dressed and eating breakfast with me. The patter I got from my little shadow went thus:
"Mummy - why aren't you here very much in the new house?"
"Mummy - are you going to come home tonight?"
"Mummy - when is it Mummy & C time?"
And so on, and so on.
I did manage to stem the tide for a while with a well timed present from my trip, but I'm not sure that guilt will be taking a holiday any time soon.