Beefcake and I were having a conversation, last week. We were talking about money and things and how he could get another job (he was offered that job by the way but they asked him to take a pay cut which, I’m sure you’ll agree, rather defeats the purpose of his getting a new job in the first place), we talked about his taking on a short-term contract and doing that PLUS his current job to just get us through this rough patch. He could do this but I don’t even want to think about how tired he would be, seriously.
Then we came to the interesting bit. When I first suggested that I return to work I was only half serious. I mean, I haven’t been planning on it. In fact I have been planning on staying at home until Grub is at kindy or even school.
I left work when I was about 32 weeks pregnant with Pudding. My contract was supposed to continue until I was 38 weeks but my pelvis began playing up and it just became ridiculous so I stopped. At the time I felt very guilty about that. I was only a new grad and I had left clients and colleagues in the lurch. I felt awful.
Since then I have told myself and everyone else who would listen that I didn’t think I would be going back to that work. “I hated it”, I would say. Which was partly true but perhaps not as true as I thought it was. You see, after Beefcake and I had this conversation and agreed that I would contact my professional organisation and get the ball rolling for my re-entry, my feelings changed.
By the next day I had realised that I actually didn’t hate my former profession. On the contrary, I actually missed it and *shock horror* felt excited at the prospect of going back to work.
It seems that over the years I have managed to trick my little mind into thinking that, although I adored my years at uni and thought I would love my chosen career, after 6 months of work I just hated it. I mean, I had a basis for this. I know quite a few others who went on to do other degrees and go in other directions, realising it just wasn’t for them. It wasn’t until last week that I realised that I wasn’t one one of them, I think, maybe.
Maybe I have never allowed myself to think about this with any serious intent before because the little ones were too young or because my pelvis has been too bad (which is still an issue – an issue I am ignoring) but let’s look at this:
- Beefcake works from home. Not only does he work from home but he is completely free to set his own hours, in fact it is necessary for him to work some night-time hours to be in line with the normal working day in the UK.
- Grub has recently reduced the amount of daytime feeding she does. She could easily be without me during the day and still feed in the morning and the evening without even noticing that I was gone.
- Pudding will be at kindy for four half-days a week next year, meaning that there will be good long breaks while Grub naps for Beefcake to work uninterrupted.
I don’t know why but as soon as I realised that this was a definite option I have been soooooo excited. Over the moon in fact.
I feel completely free to go to work knowing that Beefcake will be here caring for the kids. He can easily fit his work hours around it and we will have two incomes.
I know it’s going to be an adjustment for all of us and that I’ll be tired and pulled in different directions to some extent but I want this.
I have started the ball rolling.
I am going back to work and I am happy.
I am over the moon.