“I miss work.
Which is an odd thing coming from someone who never stops working.
I miss thank yous and you’re doing a great job. I’ll have to wait a few decades until I get those from my current employer.
I miss getting ready. I miss the compliments on my outfit and hair.
The hot coffee, and people who got my jokes. I miss when my brain operated well enough to form them.
I miss when a mess-up didn’t mean making a little person cry, or guaranteeing their need for therapy.
This new job is so high stakes.
I miss punching out.
Now my work leaks into every part of my life. There’s not a minute that’s safe from motherhood.
It calls in the middle of the night, during hair appointments, and workouts.
Vacation doesn’t exist. I am simply a fever or an emergency away from being called back in.
It laughs at boundaries. It makes light of carefully implemented schedules and nap times.
I miss the human contact. That doesn’t come with literal constant human contact. I miss chatting without a 40lb ankle weight.
I miss being successful in a way that the world values.
I miss not having to awkwardly stumble through my answer to the question, ‘What do you do?’
But I know the one thing I’d always miss more than work, are my children.”
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