Update on the Homefront

The stay-at-homefront, that is. So, news. Big news for us.

I quit my job.

The job has been officially taken and shoved.

My first week of work consisted of me hiding in my tiny office crying, staring at pictures of Arlo, and crying while staring at pictures of Arlo. While it was a total treasure to have Grandma Susan and Grandpa Elbe here on Daytime Arlo Duty for that first week's transition back to work, it only took a bit of the edge off in terms of missing the baby. And, it was sadly only temporary. I know so many working mothers who juggle the work+family gig with aplomb, and I'm sure I could have found a way to be one of those moms eventually. I think I cried myself to sleep just about every night during my three weeks at work. It was haaaard. Most of all, it felt completely unnatural. That's the best way I can describe it: unnatural.

Daycare was...daycare. Our center was located just across the street from the hospital, and I would scoot across the street around lunchtime every day to nurse Arlo. His teachers were nice, though a bit overwhelmed. Sometimes the background music of our lunchtime nursing would consist of five (or more!) different babies crying at varying decibels, and me staring longingly at a nursing Arlo and wondering how in the hell he manages to nap during the chorus of constant crying. I was afraid to put him down or leave him in his crib, lest he too start crying for however long it took for the busy teacher to make her way admist all of the other needy babies. They were nice to us and they welcomed Arlo affectionately, and they even continued with our cloth diapering with a little bit of education and support from us. Still, it just felt...wrong. Not wrong for everyone. Just wrong for me.

It was a strange, unforeseen brand of hurt.

Each day in my new parenthood has challenged my expectations, and one expectation that was quickly dispatched was my expectation of returning to work and finding a comfortable, easy stride there.

In some ways this decision to quit work was easy: I want to be with Arlo. I want to dwell in my motherhood.

But, in many other ways, it was a complex decision. In terms of my career and in terms of wage-earning, the more practical option would have been to remain at work. After all, just last May I finished my masters degree, racking up extra student loan debt in the process. To leave the work force in less than a year of completing my degree seemed...silly, imprudent. I mean, what did I go to school for? And in terms of wage-earning, I was the moderately bigger wage earner. It's obvious which option made more monetary sense.

But we've never allowed the quality of our days together to center around money. We've always lived modestly within our means. We've always managed to live a very enjoyable life regardless of our tax bracket. And so together we decided that Arlo's babyhood is too short, too priceless. I composed a heartfelt letter of resignation turned it in to my boss.

The anxiety of our future financial wellbeing is never far behind me. I spent the first day of my unemployment quietly berating myself and anxiously wondering, "What have I done???"

But then. Oh, but then.

While I was changing Arlo's diaper, tickling his chubby thighs and kissing his soft baby knees...he laughed out loud for the first time. I immediately gasped in delight and was boldy remined of the treasure of this time with my baby.

We will cinch our bank accounts, we'll eliminate frivolous expenditures, and we'll embrace our new frugality.
Our home will be rich in new and different ways.

It already is.