Blubbering at the babysitter

Everyday I come home and he's changed. He's a little taller. Rolls over further. His face, getting older.

When maternity leave ended, extended periods away from my son began. The other night I came home to Cole on the changing table and his father holding diaper wipes.

"I'LL CHANGE HIM!" I announced like the task was winning the lottery or eating grandma's oatmeal raisin cookies.

When Levi said he already had, it was the first time in my child's life I was disappointed about a diaper.

Most night shifts, I've come home to the baby already sleeping. That night, he was awake and wild and happy to see me. I swear he even smiled at my appearance.

So laundry and dishes and blogging take a backseat. I only get my son a few hours a day now, instead of all of them. So when I'm here, I save my attention solely for him.

With Levi watching Cole my first week back, I thought taking him to daycare yesterday would be just as easy as changing diapers in the dark, with one hand or any of the other mommy skills I've mastered.

But just as I needed to hone my Huggie skills, I'll need to master the art of the day care drop off as well.

I kissed my son's head, handing him to his new caregiver and passing my sniffles off as allergies. My tears, however, threatened to convict me. Cole, ever the feisty one, laughed and cooed with his new found friends.

I sauntered to my car, borrowed tissue in hand, searching for an explanation.

I'm not an overly emotional gal... and I know this woman provides great care. So what was my problem?