I did a good job

In the elevator when I got to work today, I thought briefly, "Which floor is it???"

I went in my normal way... through the back door and across the empty copy desk. My coworker had rearranged her desk to conveniently block much of the view of mine from the newsroom. I plopped myself down and waited.

My first day back wasn't nearly as thorny as I thought it would be.

I wouldn't go so far as to say I was happy to be there. I wasn't. I was going to miss "The Young and the Restless," and who can be happy about that?

Many people stopped to ask how I was, and I spent a good part of the day socializing. Which isn't my forte, but I went with it. I mean, I came back with short hair and I am 30 pounds lighter than when they last saw me. People are curious.

My first words to my boss: "Where are the fucking donuts?" His first words to me: "I missed you."

And I got way more than I imagined: our lovely HR lady found me an empty office in which to pump. I wasn't at work long before I desperately needed it. Ahhhhhhh.

The only thing missing was my rapport with Joe. We normally email back and forth constantly all day long, and have done so practically since I started working there. It was a little disconcerting not to have that, and a little lonely.

I went through my domestic life aiming to see if I could handle it all myself. I got up early and nursed Jacob before I even got Zoe up. Then it was up with her and to the bus stop. I hopped right in the shower and then got Jacob ready, and I was out the door. Joe spent time with him, but nothing that I couldn't live without.

I picked both kids up after work. The day care women said Jacob was great, didn't cry once. I was happy to learn I hadn't fucked anything up as far as his supplies and labeling everything. I got home and had dinner ready by 6:15. I've spent the evening doing more laundry and cleaning, bathing the children, and even fit in more socializing with friends and family calling to see how my first day went.

It was a hard day, don't get me wrong. Joe once again parked his ass on the couch and watched hockey all night. But I did it all. And I still have a bit of energy left to write about it.



When I got home and hit the garage door opener, I swear Joe was at the door before the garage door was fully open. He took Jacob's carrier and whisked him upstairs and oohed and awwed all over him. "What a big day you had! Oh, I was so worried about you!"

I could tell he was genuinely relieved no one at the day care center that he refused to visit had killed off his only son. "I couldn't have gone with you to drop him off," he told me. "I couldn't leave him there."

As if that makes me some kind of monster for being able to leave my kid there?

"Were you worried about me?" I asked him, thinking he might wonder how my first day went.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Hmph.

We're still not talking, and he couldn't even put aside our differences for just a little while.

And you know what? I'm not a monster for leaving my kid there. I purposely put on mascara this morning to deter me from being an emotional wreck, and it almost worked.

I just wish someone (like Joe) would say, "You're doing a good job." I didn't think I had it in me, but I did, and I got it done. I just wish someone (like ANYONE) would tell me I can get through this on my own.