Mismatched, Mishmashed

It's so funny the spot I find myself in now. It's an odd place to be, where I don't quite fit in anywhere.

I am not quite a working mom yet. I am still home with the kids. I won't even be back at work for over a month.

I am not quite a SAHM anymore, either. My SAHM-friends are already making plans that won't include me. They aren't being exclusive, but it's a fact that I won't be able to sign up for Mommy n' Me classes that will go until December and I won't be able to help start a co-op art class that probably won't get off the ground until after the New Year. The reality is that our lives are already separating. We will remain friends, but things will change.

I have tried to stay in the moment, but it's also very hard to see all of the exquisitely tiny things that children do every day and know that soon, I won't be seeing them. Like Will waking up from a nap with bedhead and half-closed eyes, yet reaching for me for a sweaty, little boy-hug. Like making a tent in his bed and snuggling down with him and Emma and a pile of books and stopping to notice the perfection of their little feet. And though it sounds dreadfully "1950 called and would like its housewife back", I have enjoyed the little things along the way. I enjoy the homemaking part of homemaking. I love preparing dinner, I love slicing vegetables for a salad, baking a cake for dessert, lighting candles that smell of cinnamon and pumpkin, and tidying the house before M gets home (but I draw the line at fluffing my hair, washing the kids' faces, or making him a martini - he doesn't like them). It's not that I won't get to do these things anymore, but I know it, too, will change.

Lest I wax too poetically, let me also assure you that I have felt frustrated on days with no schedule, where I seem busy all day with nothing to show for it at the end. Days when dinner is the only thing burning and the house is a disaster when M walks in (and I am drinking a martini). The days when Will throws a legendary tantrum, that ends with me yelling at him and feeling badly and wondering if they wouldn't be better off with someone professionally trained on how to deal with a toddler. There have been days when I have looked at the long-neglected suits in my closet, packed carefully away in their garment bags, and thought longingly of putting one on and feeling that "I'm someone" feeling that you get when you slide them on (people treat you very differently when you wear a suit and have hair that is styled and make up that took more than two minutes to glob on).

So, as you can see, I continue to live in this in-between world, partially longing to stay where I am and partially excited to venture forth. October feels forever away and tomorrow all at once.

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This returning to work thing is complicated. I have many thoughts and feelings that I can't share here in this public space. I can't really discuss much about work on here and I have come to the conclusion that it will be best if I have a password protected blog for readers that are interested in knowing more about our decision and personal things about my transition to a working mother. I will be keeping this blog open for general stories about Will and Emma, my continued thoughts on parenting after infertility and loss, and lighthearted reads about our lives together. If you are interested in following the less-public version of the story, please either leave a comment with your name and e-mail address or e-mail me with the information.