I don’t want to go back to work. I’m not looking forward to it, at all. Well, maybe that’s a stretch – I wouldn’t mind being able to go back to work part-time. Just like breastfeeding, I knew this was the plan. I’m the primary earner; I make sure we have health insurance, life insurance, and – y’know – money. It was my post-feminist dream state: I can have it all.
I just didn’t expect to like motherhood, the SAHM brand of motherhood, all that much. I believed I’d love my daughter. I knew I’d like spending time with her. But I had no idea I’d feel so good with the constant care – the laundry, the keeping the house clean (seriously, it’s the cleanest it’s ever been – still messy as hell), the cooking, the pure Donna Reed of it all. I thought I’d be coming apart at the seams, but instead of feeling deprived I feel calm. It could also be that I enjoy not having the pressures of work. I don’t think I realized how much work I was carrying, or how heavy it really was.
I’ve actually done a few things here and there during the past few weeks to help out my boss and team. It hasn’t been that bad. I really do see a part-time gig in my future when we can swing it. I want my kids to see a mom who works outside the home. I think it’s important for them to have two working, positive role models. And that’s not to say I think SAHMs don’t work. Err, no mommy wars over here.
I just didn’t anticipate not wanting to return as much as I am. Who knew?