In 15 days Mr. Monkey will pack up his office (where, oh where, will we put all the books?) and come home to start his new gig as a stay at home dad. He’ll do some teaching at night for the local community college but he’ll be the primary parent to our two sweet kiddos.
In 20 days, I will go back to work, back to a routine of daily showers and wearing make up and not spending 60% of my time in pajamas (I really am such a stereotype of the frazzled and frumpy parent of an infant sometimes). I will be the secondary parent, the one who gets a couple of tired hours at the end of the day and tries to soak up quality time on the weekends.
I’m jealous except for when I’m not. I’m anxious about being the primary breadwinner except when I’m being rational. I’ll miss the kids but will probably be somewhat relieved to back at work, where I expect that I’ll feel more in control than I do when dealing with a three year old and an infant.
Even when it is your husband staying home, I don’t think it is possible to go back to work without some mixed emotions.
I’m good at my job. My job pays enough for us to live on. I’m good at parenting, but not better than Mr. Monkey. I, and this is a crucial point, like working and derive a lot of satisfaction from my professional accomplishments. This plan, this next chapter in our live, makes total sense.
I just kinda sorta, in my non-rational brain, wish I could win the lottery in the next 20 days so we could both stay home.