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I can’t promise this will be the last post about work, but if you’re lucky I’ll take a break from it … one week with no mention of it can be yours for $500 — any takers? June 21, 2010

Posted by Erin F. Wasinger in Being a mama, Kind of unreasonable.
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I am just a couple hours away from dragging my unwilling body and soul to work for the first time in almost eight weeks. I am not handling this well.

I was terrified during Dave’s lunch break today, with Alice hugging my knees and Dave telling me “it’ll be OK.” Sweet, you say — but allow me to translate Husband Speak: “Did you SEE that hospital bill? And that’s just the first bill of many. GET YER WORK CLOTHES ON, WOMAN.”

“I will miss so much. These are our only kids, and they’re going to grow up too fast, and then it’s over and then what? Why did we even have kids if we can’t be the ones to be with them together?” I asked not to put it in his face; not in the snotty way it probably sounds, but in the most literal interpretation of that question. Why does anyone have children if they only get to see them for a couple hours at night and for Saturdays and Sundays?

Oh, I know the answer to that question. I’m just not thinking clearly. I would be a horrible stay-at-home mom — you know, I know this.

(And you want to know a dirty little secret? I love money. After spending years as the child of a single mother, I love being able to buy a shirt for Alice on a whim without feeling as if we must then eat Ramen noodles in penance. I realize work = money. I realize I must go.)

But yet … Since you can’t buy babies at Target, I am 98 percent sure this is it. And I just don’t want to miss all this: Alice makes dinosaurs from Play-Doh; we painted by shaking paint and marbles in a shoe box; we drew the letter A all over the sidewalk with pink chalk (and I still have 25 other letters to teach her?! IMPOSSIBLE); Violet watches Alice as Alice walks around the room dancing, and Violet smiles and it sounds boring, but it’s impossibly cute. Violet coos and curls her lips and “whoooo!”s in the bathtub. All these things, I want.

Anyhow, I could’ve saved myself 15 minutes by just posting this photo. It sums up exactly how I’m feeling:

OK, OK. That’s ENOUGH.

I will hereby shut up on this topic and be happy I have a job and all that crap.

So, uh, what is there to talk about? Um, hot enough for ya? Vuvuzelas?

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