Spring has hit NC, hard. We've had almost two straight weeks of glorious weather. It's sunny, clear, and warm enough that it's comfortable to be outside for hours at a time, but not so warm that you're really sweating. Add in the fact that the town where I live is home to approximately 8.5 million playgrounds, and M and I are in heaven.
This is why I became a stay-at-home-mom. I could spout some drivel about doing what's best for my precious, precious child, but it would be a load of crap. I honestly believe that kids can thrive in any number of childcare situations. Except for nursing, there's probably nothing I can do for her that someone else can't do. And, in fact, a really good nanny probably wouldn't ever let her watch television while she checked her email and caught up on washingtonpost.com.
No, the reason I'm at home is utterly selfish. I want to be the one following my child's meanderings around the park on a sunny day. I want the luxury of deciding that we can put off mopping the floor until tomorrow, and spend an extra hour at the park instead. I want to be the one whose neck M throws her arms around when she's happy. There's so much fun and joy and laughter involved in caring for a small child, and I wanted to be the one who gets to experience it. The career can wait a few years.