Nine to Five

I went back to work on Tuesday and Elliott went to day care. I was expecting to be a soup sandwich all day and that I would subsequently suck at my job. Happily, those things did not happen -- I didn't turn into a hysterical mess being away from Elliott and I found I was just as capable as a professional as I have always been. In fact, I feel my time off has made me better at what I do, more appreciative of my work and given me a clearer understanding of my strengths and weaknesses.

Maternity leave gave me lots of time for reflection and I read a couple lame self-help books that surprisingly made me look at myself as a professional from a new tack. I have been a legal assistant for seven years, but I have only managed to advance my skills on a minor scale and had begun to bank on nothing but my years of experience. The book Pushback made it clear that, despite my belief to the contrary, I was acting like a total woman at work. It kind of hurts to write this, but women actually do sell themselves short in the workplace by acting within the bounds of social expectations. Damn you, old white guys! I have been frustrated with being at the bottom of most office hierarchies, but I always figured that my time would come and I would be recognized for my brilliance and be plucked by the law firm gods and given an office with a door that shuts. Instead of asking for more responsibility or help with paying for continuing education, I just figured I'd get a promotion or a significant raise or title change when I'd put in enough time. I'm clearly capable, smart and very good at my job, but I feel uncomfortable asking for something, lest my superiors think of me as uppity. So I learned to knock that shit off, ask for what I want and not be afraid to ruffle a few feathers. Instead of happily chugging along, refusing to be open to even a sliver of risk, I'm going to wear my ambition on my business casual sleeve and pipe up when I want something (or don't want something).

On a more practical, quotidian level, I made a point to tie up every loose end before my maternity leave started, so I gave myself a bit of a fresh start when I returned. Also, our entire floor flooded the day my leave started, so I literally had a clean start at my desk. All my stuff that survived the flood fit neatly into four bankers' boxes and I even got a new computer as part of the firm's Windows 7 rollout. My body is now differently shaped, so I treated myself to a new work wardrobe that is perhaps a bit more formal than what the rest of the assistants go for, but these clothes make me feel capable and on point. I'm really channeling the ethos of the 80s working woman movies that are such a cultural touchstone for my generation: Working Girl, Nine to Five, Big Business.

As for my experience becoming a working mother (a Murphy Brown, if you need an 80s reference), it's been interesting. Now that I have successfully grown a human, everything makes me cry and feel so many things, so I actually felt guilty over how much I didn't miss Elliott during the work day. I also felt shitty for being pretty excited to be back at work and in the company educated adults after spending two months with a toothless human and two cats.  I also felt bad because the best I could give Elliott after work was propping him up on the Boppy next to me on the couch while I drank a glass of wine and binge-watched The Mindy Project. I'm not really confident in my abilities to entertain an infant on the best of days, so some more guilt creeped in when I couldn't bring myself to sing him hilarious and development-encouraging songs about shapes and colors and vowel sounds for the two hours before his bedtime. Elliott had to unfortunately settle for innumerable kisses and delighted exclamations of "You're a baby! A cute baby! And I loooooooooooooove you!" We also, shock of shocks, send us straight to parent hell, had to supplement with formula at day care because I didn't manage to pump a doomsday stockpile of breast milk for Elliott's consumption. Now he's totally not going to college and will instead clean pools in Fresno to support his meth habit twenty years from now. He may as well just skip preschool and head straight to public school mediocrity.

In conclusion, I'm feeling not great about being back at work, but not for the reasons I was expecting. I'm feeling pretty foxy in my new work clothes; I'm feeling more balanced and healthy in the noggin; and Elliott isn't going to be at any sort of disadvantage because he has two working parents.