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I Love Staying Home With My Kids, But I Miss Working

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I miss work.

Which is an odd thing coming from someone who never stops working.

I miss thank yous and you're doing a great job. I'll have to wait a few decades until I get those from my current employer.

I miss getting ready. I miss the compliments on my outfit and hair.

The hot coffee, and people who got my jokes. I miss when my brain operated well enough to form them.

I miss when a mess-up didn't mean making a little person cry, or guaranteeing their need for therapy.

This new job is so high stakes.

I miss punching out.

Now my work leaks into every part of my life. There's not a minute that's safe from motherhood.

It calls in the middle of the night, during hair appointments, and workouts.

Vacation doesn't exist. I am simply a fever or an emergency away from being called back in.

It laughs at boundaries. It makes light of carefully implemented schedules and nap times.

I miss the human contact. That doesn't come with literal constant human contact. I miss chatting without a 40lb ankle weight.

I miss being successful in a way that the world values.

I miss not having to awkwardly stumble through my answer to the question, "What do you do?"

But I know the one thing I'd always miss more than work, are my children.

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