Back in December, I was allegedly going to retire. I was going home. At least that was kind of the plan. For a variety of reasons we changed that plan a little and now that discussion is fully back on again.
Only we’ve modified it a little so that I work part time for awhile and then end it. I will be having that discussion with my boss in the next two weeks, but she basically knows I am about to ask for some kind of monstrous change in my scope and/or schedule.
There is a part of me that could walk away right now. No problem. Here’s my resignation letter (which I always write on my first day of work lest I forget where my REAL life resides) and can we work out some kind of deal on that groovy laptop you guys gave me? Truth be told that’s a HUGE part of me right now.
But there’s the other part that needs to wrap things up nicely and walk away knowing I finished things and they are done with a nice, pretty, pink bow on them. But that part is struggling to keep focus.
I have no illusions about what life will be like when I leave my career identity behind. I feel the transition coming and know that it will be hard redefining my sense of accomplishment and contribution from WifeMom + Money to just WifeMom.
I know I will desperately miss the part of my career that involved thinking strategically and coming with up with “the plan”. I am really good at that. Notsomuch with the Execution, but that’s why I build a team full of talented folks that have strengths I don’t. Going home means I have a team of Two – one who can’t find her shoes half the time and one who still pees in his pants. Good thing they’re both really cute.
But it’s time to go home. It’s time to cook dinner and clean the house and wipe endless runny noses and a few tushies. It’s time to relieve Husband from some duties he has gallantly taken on. It’s time to volunteer at schools and synagogues and it’s time to focus on the health of our family. It’s time for playdates and laundry and visits to great-grandparents and finally keeping a rosebush alive past one season.
But, man. They’re gonna make me give back my Blackberry. And that’s cause for some REAL depression.