This week

is the first week I should have gone back to work.

Monday morning, as I lay quietly nursing Lucy in bed, I looked at the clock and saw that it was 7:30. I smiled to myself and thought about the sheer contrast of what my morning would have looked like if it had been my first day back:

I'd be half dressed. Running around like a chicken with my head cut off. More than likely yelling at someone. Hair blown dry and straightened. My shirt would be in the dryer...lazy girl's version of ironing. I'd have about 30 outfits strewn throughout my room...because, you know, nothing would fit right with this post-twins body. Henry would be crying about something. Girls would be fussing and wanting to nurse. I'd have about 20 minutes before I had to leave the house. I'd probably rush out the door without breakfast...but have managed to drink two cups of coffee for sure! Speed to the office and apply lipstick at a red light. My heels would be dusty and I'd have to sift through a million receipts, baby bows, toy cars and burp rags in my knock off Coach purse to find my scratched up sunglasses.

Instead, I was laying in bed, half asleep, stroking Lucy's dark brown peach fuzz while she nursed contently. Jill was still sleeping in her crib and Henry was just settling down to watch some Handy Manny until I finished up with Lu. I slipped on my Uggs and headed downstairs to pour myself a piping hot cup of coffee. Which I sipped while I lazily talked to Andy as he read the newspaper. Jill started stirring...and my day began.

A day that is hectic many times. A day where I may not get to brushing my teeth until lunchtime. A day where I want to burst out in tears because I have not one, but two babies screaming at the top of their little lungs and a two year old whining for a cookie. A totally unglamourous day. No leather stilletos. No pencil skirts. No perfectly accessorized outfits. No powerpoint presentations. No meetings with well off clients. Just me and my three kids. Wiping noses, bottoms, making sandwiches and reading the same stories over and over again.

Do I miss working? No. The price is too high. Life is too hectic and I always felt like I wasn't good at anything...I wasn't a good employee and I wasn't a good mom. I did everything best I could, but was always stretched. I miss my girlfriends. I miss actually looking put together. I have a Calvin Klein suit in my closet that may never see the light of day again. That's a bummer. I miss lunches with the girls. Gabbing and laughing too loud. But I don't miss being gone for 10 hours a day. I don't miss filling out my timsheet. I don't miss wondering what my kids are doing right at that moment. I don't miss missing my kids. I'm sure there will come a day when I may pine for being out of the house...the grass is always greener they say...but ultimately, I'll take my spit up covered t-shirt and yoga pants over my dry-clean only gear any day.

Please note that this preference doesn't mean I won't complain somedays. Or downright cry in frustration. It doesn't mean that my new role will be perfect or that I won't secretly hate it some days. It just means that even with its challenges, this is much better for our family right now.

Have a happy weekend folks! Today I am 29 years old. One more to 30 and that is Fuhreeeaaaky!