Apparently I've been so busy over the past couple of months that I have completely neglected my blog. I'm sorry blog, you must feel so unloved.
Suffice to say, much has changed. I had a procedure done by a plastic surgeon (unfortunately nothing cosmetic, because my boobs could certainly use a lift), moved once again to a new city (hello, Cincinnati!), and started a new job (yikes).
I must say, the thought of working after taking almost a year & a half off was pretty intimidating. Due to spending every second of that time child-rearing, my brain has been rendered useless, barely able to put complete thoughts together... and now I had to go convince someone they should hire me to work in their establishment. And pay me for it. This would require actually having to speak to another adult... in complete sentences. Something lost upon me as a stay at home mom. Despite the fact that I bombed my interview, I was offered a position at a full service hotel at a university (read: all the mini-toiletries you can shake a stick at). As exciting as it was to feel needed for something besides extracting cheerios from every crevice of the apartment, I would now be required to change out of my sweat pants and brush my hair. Even more frightening was the fact that I would be leaving my child at home for extended periods of time with either my husband or our new babysitter.
In order to prep my husband for my new role as a working mom, we had a brief conversation about dividing household responsibilities... now he would have to be responsible for Operation Cheerio Removal as well.
When the time came to say good-bye to my son for the first time, I tried my hardest to hold back the tears but they came anyways. And they don't give a shit if you just spent 20 minutes applying makeup, either. So, I hopped in my Subaru and headed for work looking like I'd been chopping onions since the Reagan Administration. Upon arrival, I was eager to meet my new staff and couldn't help but notice that one of the employee's pants were unusually long. So long in fact that they were actually under her shoes. Her explanation? "Oh, I got drunk last night and lost my pants." Oh. My. God. It dawns on me that I am working with children. I left my child at home to come to work to babysit. At the ripe age of 29, I am significantly older than my employees. This point is really driven home when pants-girl tells me I look like some actress or another... in turn I say, "I used to get a lot of Neve Campbell when I was younger." She cocked her head to the side and said, "Who??" OUCH. Right through the heart. Right through my aging, probably-on-the-verge-of-stopping heart. Another clue that I was probably the only person there old enough to be married with a child was my staff's response to breast milk. There was a guest at the hotel who was pumping for her infant and needed a freezer to store it. When taking the bagged milk (and bagged within bags mind you), the front desk associate held it in such a manner that she looked like she might contract herpes if she actually touched it. Ha, novice.
After spending the day amongst people born in the 1990's, I was happy to get home to my husband. That was, until I walked in the door. I couldn't tell you what had surpassed in my absence, but the apartment was so torn upside down that it looked like a bomb (or four) had gone off, and Ben looked like he had just come home from war. Apparently it was the longest day of his life, as he had never spent more than an hour or two by himself with our son. And clearly he had no idea exactly what I did for the last 15 months. I'm still not quite sure what he thinks I did all that time, but obviously the laundry & dishes didn't do themselves. After this night, I later came to learn that my husband called his mother in a panic, wondering what he was supposed to do with a kid for 10 hours while I was gone.
Since my first day of work, my husband has figured out how to spend his time with a toddler & pants-girl has put in her two weeks notice. I'm still trying to teach Ben how to pick up his dirty socks & use a toilet brush, but you win some, you lose some, right?
