My only complaint really is that about three years ago we were told that we should no longer call our employees "employees". It was noted that "Associate" or "Team Member" was the less demoralizing term for the people who work for our company. Um... yeah. I really don't think that anyone felt better about themselves or their job because I referred to them as an associate. In fact, had they know how I would abbreviate it when writing ("Ass."), they probably wouldn't have appreciated it at all. I get so annoyed with these little things we do to further point out how thin-skinned we have become as a society. (A symptom of the problem described in my previous post.) But, anyway, for three of my nine years at this company I was an "associate". Either way, I'm going to miss my friends there. And if I'm honest with myself, I'll probably miss some of the work too.
I left my job in order to stay at home full time with the girls.
Let me stop right here and cover something that's bothered me for several of these posts. There is a movement out there that has several women out there referring to their breasts as "the girls". Every time I say "the girls" or "my girls", I picture this. Please note that I am talking about staying home to be with my daughters. Not my breasts, although they will be there, too. They pretty much go wherever I go.
Moving on...
I left my job in order to be a full-time mother to my girls. Is that my calling? It's one of them certainly. I'm not convinced it's the only thing I'm supposed to do. One day perhaps I'll figure out the rest of it. Part of what made me want to be home was my schedule. I had been working three days a week which was really a great set-up. But, I had a 45 minute commute. That meant that on the days that I worked, I would leave at 7:00 a.m. (okay, 7:30) and wouldn't get home until almost or just after 6:00 in the evening. Mike travels quite a bit, so when he's gone, I have to get both girls up and dressed, all of us fed, the dog out, the kids dropped off and then somehow get to work at around 8:30. Then I'd also have to leave work early in order to get them on time from after school care. It wouldn't have been that big of a deal except that missing thirty minutes at the beginning and end of my work day took a chunk out of my work time when you consider I was only in the office 24 hours a week to begin with. Plus, if the kids were sick - which they often are - I'd have to be home. I often felt like I was letting the girls down and also letting down the folks I supported at work. Mommy guilt. And work guilt. Not a great combination.
Plus, my job really wasn't a part-time job. It was a full-time job that I just did part-time. I was constantly getting phone calls and emails on my "days off". I did get pretty good at being able to "shut it off" on those days - determining which calls and emails I needed to pay attention to and letting the rest wait until my next day in the office - but certainly none of us could expect HR issues to only happen on Mondays, Wednesday and Fridays. That's just not realistic. Also, it didn't really fit my personality; that type of work. I had to deliver a lot of bad news. I had to discipline people and give them unwelcomed feedback. When I walked into the room, people would joke that they couldn't have any more fun because HR was in the room. Really? Me? Prevent you from having fun?! If anything, I am usually the one stirring up the inappropriate conversation. What on earth am I doing having to squelch it? Not me at all.
Two things happened that let me know it was time to leave. Mike and I had actually discussed it several times before but this time it seemed right. First, the girl we had lined up to keep the girls this summer got a full-time offer from another family. I had given her a window - through the end of March - to find something full-time before she committed to me. She called me on Friday, March 30th to let me know. I mentioned it to Mike that following Monday. He was leaving for an out of town work trip and I asked him to take a look at our budget, etc. while he was on the plane. Once he got to his destination, he was presented with a nice raise and a contract extension. Done deal. Friday, April 6th, I told my boss and the ball was rolling.
I knew I'd be sad about leaving, but I never dreamed I'd cry like a baby ALL DAY like I did. My eyelids weighed about 17 pounds each and looked like albino footballs by the end of the day. It was kind of like a funeral before you die. People say such nice things and let you know what you've meant to them. Don't get me wrong. I'm sure some of them were just being nice and let's face it: it's not like they're going to tell you what an idiot they always thought you were when you are so weepy about leaving. But, it still meant a lot. I truly loved so many of those people. Even the ones I didn't know that well but would exchange simple pleasantries with. They were part of my work day. They made it a welcoming place to be for all of those years. I am honored to have been an employee AND an associate there for that long. It's a truly special place.
Now on to my new reality.
Monday was my first Monday-of-unemployment. How did I spend my first day of freedom? Let's see. It was pouring for most of the day. I had my yearly gyno visit (not exactly the glamorous life) and I was actually late for it for no good reason except that my children wouldn't cooperate. When I got there all frazzled and fuzzy (from the humidity), the nurse told me that I must be "having a Monday". What is a Monday to a person who is unemployed? Just a day, I guess. I don't really know yet. I ran some errands and got on the treadmill. Fixed a good, healthy dinner. Read some of my book. I even wore make-up. I took a shower (obviously; given the gyno visit) which is actually a good sign. I was worried I might only take the occasional shower since I didn't have a job to go to. I've told my work friends that if they start seeing pictures of me on Facebook in my pajamas and no make-up to please intervene.
So far, things are going well. I've set my alarm for 7:15 during my first two days of freedom because I just feel like I should get up and get moving. I've showered both days - accomplishment. I've fixed five meals which is good BUT I broke down and bought pizza for dinner tonight. Oh well, baby steps...
I worry because I am a generally lazy person. My job kept me structured and now that it's gone, I'm a little worried about how I will fill my time. I said earlier that I don't know if my calling is to be a full-time mother. I love being a mother of course, and I adore my sweet children. But I am not a *great* mother. I have great intentions. But I'm not creative, I'm lazy, as I've said, and I have very little patience. I see my friends who stay home full time and they are much better, sweeter mothers than I am. They are stay-at-home-moms whose kids are benefiting from their being home. Time will tell if mine will. I know I need adult interaction. I need my brain to be able to focus on something that's just mine; not my kids, if that makes any sense. But, for the time being, I will be at home full time doing the most important job I will ever have.
I'm not real sure where life is going for me, but I suppose I'll enjoy the ride until, well, I don't enjoy it. And then I'll find something else to do. Something that is more conducive to being a present, involved parent. And something that is a better match for my personality. We'll see how this goes...
Vitality shows in not only the ability to persist but the ability to start over.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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