Once again, I have returned to the land of copy machines, cc'ing, and mysterious year-old science project yogurts stinking up the community fridge. Yes, I'm back at work, after 12 weeks of maternity leave, during which I (again) planned to do lots of ambitious, vitally important things, like get the dog groomed and finally get rid of all those literary theory books I have from grad school and organize our cupboards with all the dry goods in cunning glass canisters and make homemade Halloween costumes, and (again) got nothing done except occasional vaccuming. I didn't even get the oil changed in my car. So, I've got nothing to show for all those weeks except for this:
(Jonas, just before he again put his hand in his mouth and just after he gave me this very important message: ooooh aarrrrr yiiiii.)
(Axel, doing his biggest "Say Cheese" smile, and me riding the train at the zoo.)
I guess that's not nothing.
"How does it feel to be back?" people keep asking me.
"Ask me when I've been back longer than two hours," I say.
Mostly it feels...weird. In almost three months, not much has changed. I had hundreds of emails to delete about events that have already happened and now-resolved crises with the shared projector. Sure, some people got haircuts and some people quit smoking or took up smoking or lost weight or gained weight, and projects have been completed and work accomplished and papers filed. Money has come in the door and gone back out. But it is still, mostly, the same place, except now I need a special code for copying.
And I still am, mostly, the same, except that am no longer wearing maternity clothes and am now wearing my fat pants and things with a stretchy waist. I was gone. Now I'm back. I had one baby. Now I have a baby and a toddler. I was tired from end of pregnancy bloat and sleeplessness. Now I'm tired from nighttime nursing sessions (Jonas wants me to take back what I said about him being a good sleeper) and a toddler with a minor digestive issue that makes him poop a few times a night and gives him a big bad case of diaper rash (but no swine flu, hurrah!). It's sad, but it's an accomplishment that I've made it to work two days in a row, in a mostly presentable state, and then carried on coherent conversations.
I think that's it - I'm too overwhelmed to even realize I'm overwhelmed. There's no time to stop and think about how I feel. There's only time to get everyone up and dressed and clean out my inbox and decipher a spreadsheet and add something else to my to-do list and order more diapers and add a picture of Jonas to my bulletin board and think that I really should get on planning Axel's 2nd bithday party and try to remember to pump before my shirt gets stained with milk in the middle of a meeting.
So how does it feel? Ask me in a few weeks.
