Early today I left the house while still dark, leaving behind my warm, fresh-faced little turnip, standing in her jammies with her magnificent tummy and rosy cheeks. She cried when I turned the corner. I ran out the door.

Shortly after, I nabbed a coffee at the café of a cultural arts client, only to notice I was surrounded by mommies and babies not dashing off to meetings. They had the luxury of time. The mommies ordered muffins to share. I let my heart plummet to the floor.

Joined by my coworker, we sat down. I looked around at the mommies sprinkled about the room, and looked again. They were doing the same thing to me. It was interesting.

They looked at me, tired and little bored. I looked at them, sad and not a little guilty.

Is this the mommy-conundrum?