I know, it’s been awhile since I’ve written something of quality.  It’s not that I haven’t had a million thoughts running through my head, it’s just finding the time & frame of mind to sit down & write.  If there’s one thing I’ve discovered, it’s that having a newborn escalates every task to take twelve times longer than usual.  Checking email?  15 minutes, because you’ve got a bottle in the left hand & the mouse in the right.  Cooking dinner?  45 minutes, because you’re either wearing the baby or stopping ever 5 minutes to pop back in a paci.  Watching a 30-minute television show?  At least an hour, after several pauses when you cannot hear the dialogue over the screaming kid.  Laundry?  At least an hour per load.

OH MY GOD.  LAUNDRY.

Is there a coicidence that I dreamt of a monster made of socks & Carter’s pajamas murdering me last night?  I think not.

& secretly, I love it.  I love being home with Harrison.  I love watching him swing in the sunlight while I sip on coffee & organize bills.  I love keeping my house clean & having the time to do it, versus scrambling on Saturday mornings.  I love having dinner on the table when Nate gets home.  I love that I’m home so when he pulls up, the Christmas lights are on & he has a cold beer waiting for him.

I was born in the wrong decade, I know.  Maybe even the wrong century.

& as the weeks hurdle on towards January, I get this lump in my throat that I cannot bear to think of.  I cannot fathom the idea of leaving my son & going to work.  & I also know that for the choices Nate & I made regarding our home & lifestyle, it is not an option for me to stay out of work.  & that is something I need to reconcile, because I was part of those choices.  I love our home versus living in an apartment.  I am glad that my son has a yard & a dog to play in as he grows.  I want to take him on vacations & I want him to have good health coverage.  I want my son to play sports or take lessons if he wishes, without me having to say “no” because we can’t afford it.  & so I work so that my son can have the life & experiences that we wish for him.  But it won’t make it any easier to miss these sunny mornings where I lay on the floor with him while he smiles at me under his playgym.

But I love my job.  I’ve always loved my job, how it feels to help people, & been thankful for the opportunities it affords us.  I miss work.  I miss the people I work with & I miss making money.  Especially in the first weeks after Harrison’s birth, I missed feeling “powerful” & in-control, when I felt so helpless underneath a little 8-pound tyrant.  But I also love not having deadlines.  Not having to answer to anyone but Harrison.  I can’t screw this up & I don’t have to watch my back.   Staying home has been the greatest de-stresser of my life.  Amazing, considering I have a little boy screaming in my face for hours every day.

When I think of everything that I face come January, I feel overwhelmed by the loss of leaving Harrison every day coupled with the OH MY GOD, HOW WILL I SURVIVE?  If my schedule is already full with the baby, house, husband, etc, how will I throw in a 9-hour workday + 2 hours commuting & still manage?

Oh, that’s right.  I had this freak-out already. There’s really no need to go back into the depths of that psychosis in print.

But now it’s even more real.  Real to the point that I climbed into the shower two nights ago & had a good, ugly cry.  I like crying in the shower.  & the more I thought about driving away from the daycare, the tears flowed faster.  I thought about the task of losing the baby weight when I won’t have time to gym it up come January, & I hiccupped through the sobs.  I worried over the money necessary for caring for my family (a whole other future post in the making) & nearly choked.

My husband is awesome.  He helps, believe me.  He knows how to turn on the vacuum, he’ll throw together a mean Hamburger Helper in a pinch, & he can feed Harrison just as easily as I can.  But to be honest, I run the show most of the time (I think most women do, when we’re completely honest & not having to state this fact in front of our doting men).  Staying home isn’t easier than working, but it is easier to run on my own schedule.  I can pay bills while he swings, clean when he naps.  I can work out during the day, so that I can devote my evenings to my husband & the couch.  I don’t have to plan errands into 45-minute lunch break stretches, or be hungry until dinner is finally ready at 9pm because I was stuck in traffic until 7pm.  I only know how to manage this new life when I’m at home, & this feels secure & comfortable.  I just don’t know how to do it come January, & that is overwhelming & terrifying.