I miss my kid today. Actually, I miss him a lot lately and I feel just horrible that I'm not with him more.

What's worse is that he feels terrible sometimes too. Just last week he said he remembered when we used to be together all day, and how much fun that was, and he wished we could be together all the time again. I can't describe how sad and angry and generally crappy I felt when I looked at his face.

Even though it wasn't easy, I did love being home with him for the first three years of his life. I used to put him in his stroller and take him to the Toddlers' Playhouse for a couple of hours in the morning, and we would have lunch and do the shopping, and watch children's shows. We would have the most delicious afternoon naps, cuddled together in the big bed. I took him to the Children's Museum and various playgrounds around the neighborhood. We went to art classes sometimes.

As good as it was for him, it was also great for me. I felt so secure, knowing that my defenseless little baby spent the whole day with the person who loves him more than anything there ever was or will be. I loved having him right there with me, perfectly safe and happy.

Now, instead of that, I spend my day helping extremely wealthy individuals become even wealthier. For my trouble I get a salary, a 50% match for my 401(k) contributions, health insurance, and eleven paid vacation days.

I know I shouldn't complain. I don't want to be a complainer. I'm just saying I miss my kid.

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