This Saturday is my first shift back at work. Mat leave is over! No more lounging in sweat pants and watching Treehouse shows. Boo.
Apparently, I was supposed to come back earlier. When I talked to my admin a month ago, I could have sworn that she said that I would come in after Easter. I got a text from my sister on Tuesday to call the office. What? Have they lost my file? Why didn’t they call? Indeed, I was supposed to work at least two days this week. Who knows? Pregnancy has permanently fried my brain. However, I do recall giving them the actual dates of when I could work (a month ago) since I was dropping down to part time. If there was a problem, the onus was on them to let me know. Anyhoo, there was much confusion and consternation. Even though, the Powers-That-Be knew of my return, they had yet to decide which department to plop me in. As it stands, I’m just showing up on Saturday with no clue as to where I’m working. Joy.
I’m a little apprehensive. It’s been a year since I’ve worked and had to deal with the outside world. It’s very easy to cocoon yourself at home with a baby. Never mind the fact that a lot has changed since I left. There has been a lot of staff turnover and administrative changes. But, I’ll now have to converse in complete sentences and drop the sing-song voice. I should be allowed to put pissy customers in timeout.
So, we’ll see how this goes. My husband and I have made the decision not to put our heir into daycare. Instead, we’ll be passing him back and forth so to speak. This could either save us money and enable us not to miss a single moment watching our son grow up. Or it could drive us crazy and be an epic fail. Holy shizznit!