Take job. Learn, leave, then love the next. Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful; there’s really no cause-effect relationship there. Instead, hate me because I love my work and really, can’t shut up about it. Haven’t even had time to blog: it’s that good. I’d rather be working. Seriously. How screwed up is that? I bill 20-25 hours a week, but am OBSESSED and work, dream, and brain dump about this
I love my new job. I like my old jobs, too, which I’m afraid to ditch as I’m convinced new bosslady is going to wake up and realize she’s been Punk’d by a return-to-work mom who has a ga-billion ideas bouncing off her neurons, but not a hint of know-how to make them happen. I work at home, and let bosslady know I’m putting in the time by updating her.
How do you know it’s time to go back to work after being a stay at home mom? When the time is right, you think you will know it. But sometimes, stay-at-home moms don’t realize they’re the last ones, um, staying. All you new moms sitting home on maxi-pads the size of volkswagons, with bloody, cracked nipples (you know who you are), crying over McDonald’s commercials holding a beautiful baby
Let’s just say this working, not working, freelancing, stay-at-home, flex-time, tele-commuting, blogging life I’m living is not really an on-ramp, off-ramp situation. It’s more like the movie we’ve all seen but never admit to: Chevy Chase’s European Vacation. Remember? “Look kids, Big Ben!” Constant chaos, but with moments of clarity, beauty and humor that make the trip worthwhile. Take for instance, my first, real, live, paying, back-to-work experience in um, let’s say, about 2½ kids: