I remember the last time I went back to work. Monster L was less than a year old. I missed her first steps on my second night of work. When Husband told me, I cried like a baby and then sat in the bathroom trying to not to let anyone see the effect it had on me. I also ended up leaking through my work shirts three or four times in the first weeks on the job, because I was still nursing Monster L at the time, and my body was also in full on desperation mode.
This time is different though. I don't have a baby anymore, I have a toddler. I have a kindergartner. A preschooler. My babies are much bigger, much older, than the last time I ventured out into the real world. To be honest, I'm terrified. I'm going to have to wear real clothes. Not yoga pants and t-shirts. Like, pants. With a zipper and a button. Every day. I'm still processing that part. I'm not quite ready to give up my yoga pants for real clothing. Even if it's just a work uniform.
I don't even know yet where I'll be working. I just know that there are a couple attainable possibilities that I might be able to choose from. Talk about scary. One is familiar, and one very much isn't. It's pretty scary.
I will have to interact with people. Every day. I don't remember how to interact with people. I don't even how to be around people for long periods of time. I've been nothing short of a hermit for two years. I stay at home, I hang out with my kids. I talk to my husband, and my sister in laws. That's about it. What kinds of things do normal adults talk about? What goes on in their lives? I should research this a bit, so I don't seem as naive as I actually am to what goes on in the world.
I should clean the house too. I won't have as much time to do that if I go back to work. I should be prepared. Dear me, I should probably buy make up. I haven't really put makeup on much for two years, unless you count the makeovers that my daughters give me. Which, I don't. Although at this point they are probably better at applying makeup than I am. Cause, you know, they've had all that practice.
I know that there are mothers everywhere that go back to work. They are happier, healthier, and probably a little more stable because of it. I'm not so sure if I will be. Anxiety has reared its ugly head, mixed with a nice dose of self doubt, and a little bit of self loathing. The only thing I'm good at anymore is being a mom. Even that has it's bad days. I mean, ask me about food allergies, and I know quite a bit. Changing diapers? Hell yeah I can do that. Multiple french braids on a squirming child's head. Mastered it. Laundry? Almost. Doing the dishes, oh yeah, I load that dishwasher like a beast. I can kiss booboos, apply bandaids, brush hair, pick out matching outfits in a sea of chaos. I can cook a dinner for 8 with children running around my kitchen and sometimes even hanging off of me. I can clean the tiny cracks of those inane sippy cups until I'm blue in the face. These things I can do. These things I have mastered. But that's pretty much where it ends as far as being a productive member of society. I'm not really a part of society, because I rarely even leave home.
How can I possibly juggle it all?
Fingers crossed friends. Because it's happening whether I can crush the anxiety or not. I can't keep myself locked away at home forever. Pray for me. I'm going to need it.
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