It’s been so long since I’ve posted that I’d forgotten my user name.
There’s dog fur rolling across the floor like tumbleweeds.
The oven hasn’t been on in weeks.
That’s because after five years at home with my son, I’m back to the grind. And I never expected to love it quite as much as I do.
In fact, I dreaded it enough to lose plenty of sleep as the mid-August start date edged closer.
I’ve heard people say that after spending a long stretch of time at home, parents find life at work to be easier.
I can’t say it’s less busy than being at home, but wrangling middle-schoolers is definitely not as difficult for me as it was five years ago when I left.
The preteen antics don’t get under my skin quite as much as they did then. I remember driving home most afternoons with my shoulders scrunched tightly beneath my ears because I was so irritated with the kids.
I’ve gotten much more adept at picking my battles. The kids get the vibe that they can’t rattle me, so for the most part, they haven’t tried.
I’m in a much better frame of mind now that I’m back at work. And that’s something I never expected.