*I wrote this post in early December, but wasn't sure if I wanted to publish it or not. After re-reading it, I decided to go ahead and publish.*
I went to a baby shower for a former co-worker a few nights ago. As I was driving to the shower, I was thinking that I have been a stay-at-home mom for almost six months now.
Six months. It sure doesn't seem like it's been that long.
Some days, I still feel like I'm just gone from work on vacation or something. I really do miss it. Still.
If I had it to do over again, I would still make the choice to stay home with Brianna. It is so wonderful to be able to spend every day with her, teaching her, watching her learn and grow and develop, and loving on her. But, I feel like I'm still adjusting to life out of the workforce.
I think one of the big reasons that this transition has been so hard for me is that I don't have an automatic conversation piece anymore. In a University setting, there is always something going on that makes a good story. I find myself wondering if my friends find me interesting anymore now that I tend to talk about things like diapers and drool and sleep patterns more than anything else. And I know there is so much more to 'me' than that, but that is the easy stuff to talk about. Stuff I'm afraid is of no interest to anyone.
I'm also still learning where and how my 'work' friends fit into my life. When you spend 40 plus hours a week with someone, working in a setting like the one I worked in, you tend to see all the ups and downs of everyday life on the job. We lived through some very stressful times, so there was without a doubt days of good, bad, and ugly. Witnessing each other's spontaneous tears of frustration, seconds of raging anger, moments of triumph, and laughs of joy can draw you very close together. I used to know all the little details of my 'work' friends' lives. I knew if they spilled their coffee on their pants that morning. Or if they went to bed early the night before. Or if they finally cleaned their kitchen, even though that is their least favorite chore in the whole world.
Now, I may see these friends once a week at best. And during those few moments a week, we both only show our good. No bad, no ugly. Cleaning the kitchen or spilt coffee no longer seems like an appropriate conversation piece for our time together, and the pressure to find something "interesting" to talk about feels really heavy. The whole dynamic of the friendship is changed, so an adjustment has to be made.
I'm still trying to figure out how to do that.
And some days, it's hard.