I’m thinking about going back to work and it is terrifying/exhilarating. I also wonder if it is, after 4 years as a stay-at-home parent, nothing more than a pipe-dream. What if my years of diaper changing and toddler wrangling have so thoroughly turned my brain to a baby-mush-pile that I am useless in any sort of professional capacity?
Okay, I know that isn’t true, and that I didn’t spend 19 years and thousands and thousands of dollars on my education to have nothing left in there that functions. But it is a little daunting to think about shedding my role of full-time mother (for which I shed my previous role of employed person) for “working” mother.
And, of course, I have to get a job before I really start facing my worries, but off the top of my head:
Who will watch my kids? Nanny? Daycare? What if they make Joe scream in his crib? What if my kids don’t recognize me when I come to pick them up? What if they like the nanny more than me?
What the hell will I wear?
Can I function as an employee on like 6 interrupted hours of sleep?
What important moments will I miss? First words, first steps?
I could go on, but I won’t. I’m obviously not unique in having these fears, nor in facing the decision to stay at home or go back to work. Ultimately, I think it will make me a better mother. Four years at home has been a blessing, but it’s also been sometimes a drudge and my patience is wearing thin. And now, with two of them, if one isn’t screaming at me, the other is, and I, selfishly, want them to scream at someone else for a while. (It’s true that as a social worker – if I go back to social work – I will probably get screamed at by adults from time to time, but at least I’ll get paid.)
There is another whole blog here about how our society (doesn’t) support mothers returning to the work-force, but I’m not in the head-space to (re) write that.
Instead, I will be a little excited that I have an interview next week, for a job that I could take or leave, which is a pretty liberating place to be in. I’m lucky to have the freedom to decide to work if I want to, although I still don’t know what I’m going to wear, or how the hell I am going to get anywhere by 8:30 in the morning.