I’m going back to work.
After four years and two kids, I am heading back into the world of the 9-to-5-ers. Tomorrow morning I will wake up, get dressed and drive, alone, in my car to a place where my kids will not be.
Going back to work was always part of the plan. It was the reason I spent the last two-and-a-half years in grad school and the reason we tried to have Archie with plenty of time before the 2014 school year. It was always part of the plan, but I never thought my first day would actually get here.
I’ve been a SAHM (does that acronym make anyone else cringe?) for the past 3+ years and the idea of chit-chatting with coworkers while my kids hang out at home without me is simultaneously heart-wrenching and the best thing I’ve ever heard. It’s one of the great ironies of motherhood – you love your children so much that all you want to do is be there for their every waking moment, but you will also do anything in your power to get away from them for just one f-ing minute.
Even if that one f-ing minute is spent eating an individual baggie of Cheetos on your back porch while your kids are inside wondering where you are. Right, Mom?
So, this new job that starts tomorrow – it’s pretty much my dream job. Well, to be honest, my dream job would be sitting in a beautifully decorated office in New York City writing a wry, yet thoughtful daily (or weekly? Yeah, weekly is way less pressure.) column for the New York Times. Or The Post. I’m not a snob.
But anyway, this job. This job is going to be great. It’s 2.5 days per week, which, according to experts, is the exact amount of days per week that you can spend trying to pump breast milk without electing to have a voluntary double mastectomy. And because this job is only 2.5 days per week, I’ll have exactly 4.5 days per week to be home with the little guys. 4.5 days to color pictures, cut crusts off sandwiches, nurse, play on the swing set, nurse, go for walks, nurse and then if there’s time, nurse.
I’m going to have it all. The career. The family. It will be just like the series finale of 30 Rock, except that instead of adopting mini Tracy Jordans and Jenna Maroneys, while running a successful NBC sitcom and being mentored by Jack Donaghy, I’ll just keep the kids I have and work at an elementary school.
But it’s basically the same thing.
Do you have a going back to work horror story? Share it with me so I have something to feel anxious about!