A dash of angst, please

Most of you know that I recently took a leave of absence from the world of professional etiquette to return back to the world of social work.  

Etiquette and social work.

Two careers that are so ridiculously different my head is still spinning. I’ve gone from clients interested in the intricacies of fine dining to clients who aren’t concerned with HOW to eat their next meal but with where that next meal will come from.

And I love it. But not just in the way that I expected to – I expected to find this job to be fulfilling, meaningful, and challenging. And it most definitely is all of those things. But, I’m also finding job satisfaction for other, less noble-sounding reasons:

  • I love that in my new job the meetings are filled with words like “perp” and “forensic interviewing.”
  •  I love that our multi-disciplinary teams include cops, prosecutors, and detectives.
  •  I LOVE that I get to go to court.
  •  I’m kind of excited that I’m technically an “Investigator” because I think it sounds cool.
  • It’s also a plus that I can wear jeans.

 Obviously, I’ve possibly read too many legal thrillers, watched too many Law & Orders, or missed my calling to be an FBI agent.  Regardless of the reasons, the job is a good match for me.

My only issue is about my kids. (Shocker, I know.) Going from having a stay-at-home mom to a full-time, working mom is a huge transition. I knew there would be some heartbreaking farewells from Molly. I knew David and Emily might act out a bit now that I’m not home when they get off the bus. I knew they would need extra reassurance and attention. I knew there would be a period of transition as we moved from mom to babysitter. So, I heightened my parental sensitivities and stood prepared to respond with insight, empathy, and loving guidance.

Nothing happened.

The transition went so smoothly that, frankly, I’m a bit insulted.

Perhaps a clue to the kids’ overly-well-adjusted behavior is found in this picture sent to me by our babysitter (which is only one of many “happy kids” pics she’s texted me):

These poor children

Yes, apparently their time with the babysitter is filled with ice cream, playgrounds, baking, and other fun things. Activities perhaps more fun than my “let’s all match socks!” brand of fun.

And it’s not just the fun and games. The girls’ hair is braided, twisted and otherwise beautifully styled way beyond my go-to, pull-the –sides-back styles. Plus, sometimes my husband and I come home to banana bread (or cookies or pretzels, etc., etc.). Our quality of life has definitely not suffered by my return to work.

But. Still. The kids could at least have a tad bit of mommy-separation anxiety, a dash of childhood angst. It’s only polite.

Update: Yesterday Molly (2) woke up and said to me, “you stay mommy.” My heart broke a little. It felt good.

18 thoughts on “A dash of angst, please

  1. Great to see an update, Amy, and I’m glad to hear that you’re enjoying your new job. Something different can be refreshing. And jeans? Sweet.

    However, the girls look miserable in that picture. Their acceptance of the new situation probably has a lot to do with the commitment you make to them when not at work. They still know you’re their one and only.

  2. hey, missed your perfect words! Love what you write – it makes me feel like I’m there! Great little story!

  3. Glad to see your post, Amy, and glad you’re loving your new gig!

    Happy you found good child care…I was fortunate in that with all three of my girls! My babysitter’s husband used to send me home with hot soup when I came to pick Hope up after work!

    I’m sure the kids miss you, but it is so much easier when they’re happy with the babysitter!

    Wendy

  4. I am beside myself with laughter at your post! Wow! What’s even more interesting is the fact that I’m making that very same transition from independent Image Consultant to full-time Marketing and PR Specialist with a local firm here in Jamaica. I just LOVE the certainty of my income but I miss the spontaneity and adventure of my personal shopping stints and grooming sessions etc. My 2 year-old could care less that I’m not around as much now…and it hurts 😦 Imagine, the little time that I’m away in a 9-to-5, I come home to “pow-pow” gun fingers and ambushes instead of hugs (sigh) Thank you so much for lifting my spirit, because unlike you, I HATE THE JOB!!!

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