I am not good at staying at home.
Admission, once one is beyond the guilt-induced breakdowns, is the first step to recovery.
Usually, I attack anything in front of me with fervor, but the state of the house, my malaise about Christmas, and my newfound hatred of cooking indicate I am not on anyone's "Household CEOs To Watch" list and if I don't excel at it, I don't want to do it.
Further making me come to grips with reality was the cry of relief I experienced today when I stepped into a pair of shiny black heels and saw my former self in the mirror. "Oh, hi there," she said with shock on her face, "It's so nice to see you again!"
I love my little boy, but our current set-up isn't working. I blame myself for not having seen this coming. C-suite jobs are mostly headaches and bureaucracy masked with fancy titles and perks.
I miss the real world, the same one that kicked my ass out of it when I rose up to meet it after maternity leave. However, there is a tiny possibility that re-entering with a job that does not require 70 hours a week may be manageable. There is also a large possibility it will be easier than the manual labor required of stay-at-home moms everywhere. Anyone who faults women who stay at home or judges them for taking the assumed "easy" path should be publicly bludgeoned with a briefcase.
Mama needs a new pair of (interview) shoes.