It has officially been 1 month since I started my new schedule saying I would leave work at 3pm four days a week.
I like it.
I have an ongoing list of things that need to be done. Some are fun, some are chores. But I try to pick one of each most every afternoon.
And then there are the days when I abandon the list all together and do something crazy like tape off the foyer and paint the majority of it.
I like to work.
I completely respect people who choose to stay home with their kids. I don't get the SAHM vs Working Mom debate. We are all different. We have choices in this country. What works for me is not expected to work for others. Freedom to choose. Etc, etc.
I like to work. I am good at what I do. I get a jolt inside from the things I do on a daily basis. I have a whole lot of pride in my work and love my pats on the back. I need that.
But at the same time my kids' childhoods are flying by WAY WAY too fast. I need the time with them. I need them to come home to a mom in the house afterschool.
And I am in a very privileged position because *I* can make that choice. Not a lot of people can.
We are into our groove and I feel a sense of calm that has come over our house.
No more crazy rush to get something, anything on the table for dinner every night.
No more Wednesday night scramble to get the house picked up. Ok, so it is Wednesday afternoon scramble, but that leaves our nights open.
No more immediately ruling out any activity that starts before 6pm.
Even today, Sunday that is, I always do laundry on Sunday. And I stress about getting the laundry folded. I find myself saying in my head that if it doesn't get folded (because I am reading Bon Appetit) that I can always do it tomorrow afternoon. Ok, nevermind, that IS just called procrastination.
I am to the point where I feel like I can start adding to the schedule. That we have a routine, I know what to expect from the kids each afternoon. I am thinking I can start running on the treadmill again during that 30 minutes that I give in and put SpongeBob on. Gymnastics has moved onto the schedule (or at least we are waitlisted for the coveted classes).
Things are good. I am happy. The kids are happy. AB is happy. We are good.