Today was kind of a monumental day for me. I went in to work. For 1.25 hours.
It doesn’t exactly sound like a lot of time and when you have 280 emails to go through, it really isn’t. But it felt like just the right amount of time to be away.
I told our director that I would be in this week but that my hours were strictly determined by to Little W. Luckily I live just a few blocks from our center, so I can drive home right when Mr.V calls and says “feed this baby!!”
I made it into work when we opened (I work the office at a pregnancy resource center) and already there were quite a few ladies that wanted services. Luckily there were three of us in the office today and one volunteer in the clothing room, so it wasn’t too bad. I went through many spam emails, printed out some bills, and even helped a client in my time there. Trust me, being gone for a month has left MANY things undone. But did I really want to do them right that very second, minute, day? No. As soon as Mr.V gave the call I was out of the office. Driving home, I thought to myself: I am so very lucky that I have a part time job. Very lucky that it is only a few hours a week. Very lucky that I can zip home in less than a minute.
I knew that for myself, I could never have a full time job and attempt to raise kids. I couldn’t do it. I would constantly be pulled in hundreds of directions and would feel like I was giving less than 1oo% wherever I wasn’t for that moment. I’m glad I stuck to my gut, because driving home I realized where I wanted to be. I couldn’t wait to get home.