My grand experiment of being a stay-at-home-mom is coming to an end.
My three months of "finding myself and figuring out what I want to do" is over.
I start my new full-time job tomorrow.
Instead of starting over in a new career, I'm doing the same thing I've always done.
And I'm ok with that.
But I guess when you're good at something, you get recognized for it.
The one-armed bandits who have shaped my career have a home-base in Austin.
And they found me.
I enjoyed my time being home with L.E.
But she needs stimulation other than me.
I had every intention of building my writing career.
I wanted to turn this blog into my job.
I wanted to write a novel.
Instead I found myself depressed. Again.
I tried to make everything good.
I tried to be happy with my role at home.
But the lack of friends and adult interaction left me broken.
Some people are most creative when they're down.
I am hopelessly blocked.
I would spend L.E.'s naptimes in a ball on the couch watching 30 Rock in the hopes it would make me smile.
I spent my time not writing.
I thought this time with L.E. would be a great bonding experience.
It was but her battle cry still sounds for "Daddy."
I was offered this job on the spot.
I had nothing to lose in taking it.
Except time with my daughter.
A 30-minute commute each way.
One hour every day.
Five hours a week.
I'm the wicked one dropping her off at school.
Daddy is the hero picking her up every day.
But when I get home at night, she runs to me screaming, "Mommy's home! Mommy Mommy!" and gives me a giant hug.
The kind of hug that's one in a million.
The kind of hug that makes her so amazing.
She's stimulated in school.
She has friends.
She sleeps better.
People will ask me if a job is worth it.
When I tell you she spends most of her time at home with me watching TV, you will wonder why I didn't find a job sooner.