Taking the Plunge

I made a wacky wild crazy decision this past week-- I decided to not return to work. Insane.

Huh? Don't I have this amazing, dreamy job that I created with my own hands? Yup. Well, I had it, at least-- not anymore. Well, I won't on December 2nd.

Anyway, here's what happened-- a couple weeks ago, I had lunch (see previous post mentioning amazing guest sandwich at Ula) with a dear friend who recently returned to work after being on maternity leave with her first child. We were talking about how much it sucks to go back to work and how though the transition is, and she mentioned that she wished that she could have taken time off until January. Hmmm, I thought-- that would be nice. Especially since I wouldn't have worked much in December because of the holidays, going back a few weeks later than planned seemed like a fantastic idea.

And then it hit me-- I'm just not ready to leave my little girl, and I don't know when I will be. I take belly-to-belly naps with her every day. She's still in that helpless, baby monkey phase-- that short-lived time in life where she's basically a big lump of warmth and general loveliness (emphasis on big-- she's 97th percentile for weight!) Now that Chickie is pushing 2 and a half (and pushing just about everything else, both literally and figuratively), I know how fast it goes. I think she will probably be our last child, so this may be the last time I go through the baby stage. I don't love love LOVE the baby stage, and in many ways, Chickie is easier-- more fun, more predictable, infinitely more interactive-- but I just have this feeling like I don't want to miss anything.

Also, it's really fucking hard to work, even part time, when you have an infant. It's really, really damn hard. Like I've said a million times before, work-life balance is non-existent bullshit-- there's only work-life vertigo. I never felt like I could really do it when I just had Chickie-- I always felt like I wasn't good enough and like I was half-assing everything. I couldn't do my job effectively, and I couldn't be totally present with my kid because I had to rush to work or had a limited amount of time with him on my days off. With 2 kids, I can't imagine having to divide my time not only between work and my kids, but ALSO having to divide my days off between the 2. It's hard enough for me to give them both the attention they need right now-- they both need SO much and in very different ways, and I always feel like I'm short-changing them both.

The other thing that killed me about the work-life fuckkage was the insanely frenetic pace of life. Insane. Get up, rush rush RUSH out of the house ("No, you can't look at that flower; we're late. No, don't look at the truck-- get in the car. Get.in.the.car.NOW." to my poor inquisitive toddler) rush to daycare ("OK, love you, gotta go, bye!") rush rush rush to work, sit in traffic, curse, feel blood pressure skyrocket, rush into the office ("hi, hi, how are you? great, gotta go get shit done!") STOP EVERYTHING and pump. Pump 3 times total (Have I mentioned how much I detest pumping?) and rush rush rush to get to daycare on time before they start charging a dollar a minute. No time to exhale. I hated it. Oh, and then I'd have to wash pump parts when I got home. Nuff said. Well, one more thing-- there's a reason why women in civilized countries get a year of mat leave-- when you're sleep deprived and pumping every freaking half hour, you're not exactly a productive member of the workforce, right? I managed to muddle through after Chickie was born, but just barely. And I was so damn miserable.

So, the decision to stay home and not return to work wasn't all that hard to make, actually, once I realized that it was in fact an option. My babies will be babies only once, and work will always be there. After all, no one on their deathbed said, "Gee, I wish I'd spent more days at the office", right? Nope. Also, I feel like my kids need me right now: SJL for obvious reasons, and Chickie just needs to feel like he still has his mom. He needs to not feel rushed and like he has no control over his life. The kid is going through the adjustment from hell, and the least I can do is just be around more for him. We'll still send him to daycare for 3 days for reduced hours (no way in hell could I stay home with both of them full time), but I'll be able to go at his pace and not have to cram errands into 2 specific days, for example. The ability to slow down and be present and actually enjoy my time with them is really appealing.

When I went back to work after Chickie was born, I felt like I had to go back in order to reconnect with who I was. I felt like I needed to be ME and not just mommy mommy mommy 24-7. Well, guess what? I AM mommy all the time. It's the most important thing I am right now. And that's OK. This time, I'm totally comfortable with that as my identity, and I don't feel like I need to run away from that. I have an amazing group of friends with whom I'm very close, whereas 2 years ago, we were still "dating" and getting to know each other. I have found a wonderful village here.

That said, the decision to leave MY job was really tough. After working for years in non-profits with no money (i.e. we can't do the mailing because the printer's broken and the IT guy only comes on Tuesdays), the chance to do violence prevention and response work at a prestigious academic institution with a shit ton of money is truly unique. Moreover, I created and built my program AND my position, and I was in a place where I was doing everything I wanted and nothing I didn't, and that's pretty special.

And I decided to walk away. I am definitely grieving the loss of this job, and I fear that I won't find something this perfect again, but my little girl will only be 11 weeks old once. Once. I have years ahead of me to fight the good fight at work, right? And my babies will really only be babies once. So, I'm totally bush-whacking here. Wish me luck...