Saturday, April 23, 2011

How I became a SAHM

And just like that, I quit my job.

True, my contract was up in a few days anyway, but they'd asked me to stay on longer. Initially I'd agreed, because it seemed right in a reflexive sort of way. (Grown ups have jobs, right?) But it didn't feel right. It had never felt right.

For the past two months I'd tried to ignore the nagging sense that I was doing the wrong thing. The job was fine, and we could certainly use the money. But I hated it in a way I've never hated a job before. I wasn't hating the specific job, I was hating working in general. And I was hating that I was hating working--was silently berating myself daily--because what kind of whiny elitist bullshit is that?

Turns out, it was sincere whiny elitist bullshit. I've always been a career kind of woman; a work-a-holic, never take a vacation or a sick day kind of woman. And then I had another baby and things just... shifted.

Though that's not entirely true. Things had been shifting for a while, and I'd been becoming increasingly dissatisfied with life as I knew it. Having another baby was just the last nail in my corporate whore coffin.

Still, I took the job when it was offered because that's just what grown ups do. But I was sad. Profoundly sad. My mood did not go unnoticed and The Man would occasionally ask if I just wanted to quit, and my heart would leap into my throat. But always I would temper my response with reason, with worry, with guilt-induced nay saying.

But my attitude wasn't the only problem with my job. The Baby has been sick non-stop since entering day care, which is to be expected, I know. But he's been so sick that there have been multiple weeks during which I've been able to work only one or two days. That combined with my necessary late start time and relatively long breast-pumping breaks meant that I was barely logging enough hours to cover day care and parking expenses. We were basically breaking even. And for what? Reduced milk production on my part, excessive illness on The Baby's part, and a general pain in the ass on every body's part.

And so last night, facing yet another week with The Baby too sick for daycare, The Man and I rather quickly and simply came to the conclusion that it just wasn't worth it.

And just like that, I quit my job.


T said...

Sometimes, something has to give, right?

Hope you find some balance soon. Sounds like you're on your way.

BigLittleWolf said...

Well I say - Bravo. If you don't absolutely have to do it, and you're not feeling fulfilled in any way doing it, why not be able to focus on the hardest (and most important?) job in the world?

So much for corporate whore-dom. A time for everything, as they say. And if and when that time is right again, you'll know.

Meanwhile, it takes guts to do what you did.

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