Working Girl

There it is, the first day of work photo. Hey, these milestones aren’t just for kids.

It’s been over 12 years since I had a “first day of work.” Cue the new girl jitters.

I’ve had my own marketing and branding consulting business for the last 12 years. It’s been both feast and famine. And a whole lot of fun.

But now that my boys are older and more self sufficient, I’ve been craving a change of pace. I found myself longing to work in the company of others. I yearned to do the work, not just drum up the work.

Corporate marketing jobs abound. But those aren’t for me. I paid those dues and learned a lot, but that brand of work is behind me now.

There are two non-negotiable things I looked for in my job search – doing work that is meaningful and enjoying flexibility. I’m lucky to have found both.

Working in a real office again doesn’t make me any less the mom, wife, friend, volunteer I was before. I’m so many things before I’m an employee, but it’s refreshing, liberating even, for my sons to see me through the same lens they see their dad. I too traipse out the door, travel coffee mug and briefcase in tow. Let’s be real, it’s a cute tote, not a briefcase. But you get the picture…The boys eagerly asked me about my first day when I picked them up from school. They were pleased to see that our evening routine didn’t change.

We played trivia games.

I cooked dinner (dal and rice on this dreary night).

They packed lunch.

They chased each other around the house.

I yelled at them to stop.

We sat down to dinner and laughed, chatted, laughed some more, especially as Mac Daddy and I regaled them with stories of our past jobs from our college days (pot handle maker, switchboard operator, catalog clothing packer).

All things considered, nothing changed. The boys worried that their lives would be topsy turvy. I’m grateful beyond measure to work in a place that values family and flexibility. I can carry on with my morning reading tutoring, get to work, and still be done in time for carpool, all while using my brain and challenging myself.

My younger son had visions of the book The Terrible Thing That Happened at Our House, an old childhood book of mine that we’ve read a million times together. Whenever I brought up the idea of going to work somewhere other than for myself he mentioned that book. He doesn’t relish change, that boy of mine.

Now that he sees that our routine doesn’t change, that our life isn’t complicated, that we are comfortable, he applauds the opportunity for me to take a leap.

The one who isn’t so happy is my lonely, sweet dog.