Bringin Home the Bac- er Brisket?

This is me plunging. Typically I only do that to toilets, but I finally got the courage and confidence to do it online, also. If you scroll on down a little, you'd see a few posts that on the surface appear to be about learning from plants and other, but when you click on them are actually sample posts for my benefit. They came with the domain. What a nice little housewarming gift. I haven't yet figured out how to un-publish them, so I'll leave them up for your enjoyment. I've started a blog. A real blog. I think (does this look real, to you)? But the plunging. I'm plunging into writing. More endeavorously.

So.. also, for your enjoyment...here.

For those that aren't in the know of my life (you're missing out on very riveting content, let me tell you, if the aforementioned toilet plunging witty offcuff wasn't enough of a hook..), I've been on maternity leave. But that came to a whirlwind halt, today (I think there might still be leaves in my hair). I was unprepared. I'm not sure why (because I'm unorganized, that's why). I knew I was going back to work and I knew I was going back to work today, so I shouldn't have been unprepared. You'd think by baby number 5, I'd have learned a thing or two (or 5 even). I haven't. I've followed the same cycle of raging against my husband for "making me go back" to work. If you can't blame someone, blame your husband. They signed up for it (literally. check your marriage license. pretty sure it's on there).

I've run the gamut of emotions and bumbled and tumbled my way through a moody mix of anxiety, and guilt, and stress, and anger, and sadness, and just plain feeling overwhelmed (mostly by laundry. and supper. why does everyone always want supper!?) and I envision my expression somewhat akin to an owl--very still, wide-eyed, with my head on a serious wtf tilt/swivel.

My husband had the gall to call me around noon and ask, "How's it feel to be earning some money, again?"

"I don't know, how's it feel to be sleeping on the floor, again?" (I can't say couch, because he already sleeps on the couch. Ever since he broke his femur 5 years ago, it's more comfortable and easier for him to fall asleep on the couch and then he comes up to bed later {Clearly. Since I'm on maternity leave}. Long story. Although when has that ever stopped me.)

I'm pretty cranky about all of it.

To be fair, though, at this point, he took a second to process that I'm legitimately upset and sincerely followed up with, "What am I supposed to do?"

Just that. That's all (for now). Take a second to hear me and realize that this is hard and genuinely support me. That's it.

Lightbulbs galore, honey.

The thing is, I don't even (really) want to *not* work. I mean I do, but I don't (this may be why I drive him crazy). My job is the epitome of cake. Not what I actually do, but the logistics/benefits/perks. I work 3 days a week (T-W-TH) and can pretty much change my schedule as needed. The health insurance is pretty solid (which we need because my husband is a self employed cattle farmer) and my employer pays 90% of the premium (even though I'm only a part time employee). We participate in IPERS which is great for retirement. There are no nights, weekends, or holidays. My coworkers are great. Not to mention the intangibles that come with working somewhere for 15 years. Plus, I don't like change. I'd be a little bit of a fool to give up a gig like this, especially considering that someday, my kids will be older, and around less, and I'll want a purpose in my life outside of home. And the one I have is SUPER flexible.

But then I start to panic. Because I'm missing out on things. I'm not sure what things. As I said, lots of professional flexibility. Just time, I guess. But then when I have the time, I'm frustrated with it (and spending most of it folding laundry). Cause deez kids be nuts. And whipping through wardrobe changes like the Queen Bey. No wonder I'm nuts. And no wonder my husband thinks I'm nuts. He's probably the only one of us that isn't nuts. But has the nuts to tell me I'm nuts.

Not completely nuts, I do have a valid point (somewhere in there) and he doesn't listen or care (when I say he doesn't "care", I mean he's gotten used to being inundated with my crises so he {maybe out of survival/necessity} tunes me out a little {or a lot}), but I have a lot going on and I could use some solidarity, bro (see. we're a lot. even my parentheses are excessive)!

My sisters and my mom sent me 'back to work' flowers and a plant. It really was such a nice surprise to walk into my office to this morning. But even the Hy-vee floral department can't keep up with us.

Remember I said there were 5?

Poor Reese.

Also the thank you balloon is supposed to be a thinking of you balloon but phonetics can be tricky.

So for now, I'll go back to bringing home the brisket (not bacon-- beef, not pork) and endlessly deciding what's for supper (probably not brisket--maybe tater tot casserole--that's my "I'm pissed at you and this is how you know" dish--he hates it). And maybe having more kids. So I can go on maternity leave. And start the cycle all over again.

Kidding.

Maybe.