How to Return to a Full-Time Job

Next Monday I start a full-time job, on site. During standard 9-5 hours.

YAY! Go me! How exciting! It’s even more exciting because I interviewed for a copyediting position but they offered me an editorial manager position instead. So, hey.

But yeah, you’re right, I have an entire family who depends on my being here for drop-off, pick-up, afternoons, meals, all of it.

My husband has been supportive of my return to work and has said (and meant), “Whatever it takes.” This means that The Guy Who Is Definitely Not a Morning Person will now be getting out of bed at the crack of 7 a.m., waking the kids, feeding them, prodding them to get dressed (I myself can no longer tolerate this step)—oh, and actually at this point the little one is finally waking up after a million-and-a-half attempts to roust him. Teeth brushed, faces washed, lunches into backpacks, SHOES ON!!! and out the door by 8.

Yes, your children might have this process down to 20 minutes (some of their cousins do, with much earlier departures), but we need a full hour here. Older Boy could probably get it done in half an hour, but Younger Boy hates to wake before 7:45.

Anyway, with the new gig, my plan is to be out the door by 7 a.m., leaving the entire morning situation up to my husband. Don’t feel too sorry for him. I’ve been spending every waking hour emailing 60 possible sitters/nannies per day. I’ve posted to two different local parents’ listservs, SitterCity,, some local universities, all the parents in both my kids’ classrooms, and social media.

I’ll spare you the details of what I’ve had to sift through, but thankfully we have lined up some stellar childcare. Whew.

In related news, I went clothes shopping today (UGH), because I have exactly two day’s worth of office attire, and one of those outfits is my interview suit. I am sick of my interview suit (plus, I can’t take the jacket off without having totally bare arms…nope!). I now have six days’ worth of appropriate clothes, thanks to a trip to the Ann Taylor Factory Store. I told the saleswoman my situation (including “I hate shopping,” “I have no idea what to wear,” etc.).

I’ve also gotten the requisite anxiety dream out of the way (arrived at the wrong time, in torn pants, missed orientation, didn’t know where to get coffee or what to do, and meanwhile my husband got the kids to school four hours’ late).

All that’s left to do is…start!




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