Alex turned 18 months old today. And I almost missed it through the tedium of my second-to-last day as a woman with a paycheck. It's a bit poignant, actually, that it's taken me 18 months to do what I should've done from the beginning. Not that I regret having worked since his birth! It was a necessity, after all, one that enabled us to purchase our first home, and it gave me perspective I would've otherwise been immune to: I know what it's like to be the working-mother of a baby and I know it's not for me. I'll never harbor fantasies of a glamorous high-heeled escape to a desk job. I'm far too aware of how much Miracle Grow it takes to keep the grass looking so green.
The funny thing is that I feel like this HUGE BIG DEAL has been building and building up for MONTHS. And now that it's almost here? Almost over? It's turns out it's not such a big deal. Life goes on. But that doesn't keep me from marking all the lasts. Today was the last time I'll have to commute back to my mom's house to pick up Alex (tonight he was drinking a bottle on my mom's lap when I walked over to him and bent down to nuggle him, and he looked up at me and said "BOOB? HAIR?") Tomorrow will mark my last time wasting my life away at the metering lights, the last time I take the elevator up to my office, the last time I e-mail a client, the last timesheet, the last time I climb into my car and drive away. So many last times. And I feel oddly melancholy about it all.
I don't think I'm actually going to miss my job. Parts of it, maybe, but it's just never been all that great a fit for my personality. It's been all compromises. This job isn't challenging enough for me, doesn't push me out of my comfort zone, doesn't pay me an iota of what I'm worth at my full potential, clearly isn't social enough for me.... I could go on and on about how it's not a perfect fit in so many ways. But it has matched my lifestyle perfectly. When I first took the job, I did so with quite a bit of apprehension. Partly because of the pay, but mostly because it didn't excite me at all. But I needed a job and this was my only offer. I took it, of course, but kept secretly browsing the want ads every day for something that was a better fit. Three months later I was surprisingly pregnant and Dave and I agreed that the fast-paced, crazy-stressed-out kind of job that I dreamed of might not fit so well once a baby arrived.
And I was right. My job was perfect for someone whose mind was elsewhere most of the time. I could go about my work in a very non-committal way. Doing a good job, mind you, but not really ever putting my heart into it. My heart was always back at Grandma's house waving goodbye from the front porch.
Normally I wouldn't talk about my job like this here (especially since I recently learned my full name googles you right here - HI COWORKERS!!), but I can't imagine a word of this would come as a shock to anyone at my office. I've been very up front about my priorities and I've been a good worker. Not the stellar, ambitious, I-can-do-it-all-and-then-some worker I used to be, but good. And maybe I could imagine continuing to work if this was my dream job and I felt passionate about it. But I don't. I feel passionate about being a good mother. In fact, I feel downright AMBITIOUS about it.
And I just now realized that starting Thursday? I'm totally going to LOVE my job.
