"It's not that I'm lazy - It's that I just don't care."

I am not the first woman and will certainly not be the last to find herself asking the question all mothers must ponder at the end of maternity leave. Is going back to work really worth it? I am engaged in an internal argument that has reached a devisive stalemate where both sides of me are glaring at each other making snarly faces. I waffle back and forth between going back to an unfulfilling job that ultimately has become a necessary evil or cut way back in order to spend my days cleaning up spit up, changing dirty diapers, negotiating nap time with a four month old (a no win situation), and dealing with the daily routine of satisfying the most disgruntled of customers. The payoff from the former comes in that glorious paper form, holding me hostage with golden handcuffs. The latter payoff comes from that toothless smile, that Beevis and Butthead giggle, that look in her eye I don't see often enough but tells me I am the center of her universe.

In a little more than a week, I will be faced with daily workplace issues that no longer seem important. When the boss man demands that report by COB in a voice that rivals the drone of the Office Space manager, I will be thinking not of the numbers and deadlines but rather what I am going to do with Bug to make up for my absence all day. When the nanny tells me about how they went to the park or how she is sitting up all on her own, I won't be thinking about the people I trained how to eFile their court documents, I will be throwing my proverbial fist in the air cursing the decisions I was forced to make.

photo courtesy of www.perfectlycursedlife.com

I live in a beautiful area, but I pay dearly for that Southern California sunshine. The obnoxious mortgage payments, the ridiculous property taxes, the constant hamster wheel of make money spend money make money spend money makes a woman's right to choose between a career outside the home and building a life within the home almost impossible. Instead it becomes a delicate balancing act, a precise dance, a constant battle to keep from dropping the ball in one area or the other. I always thought that I would welcome a return to the workforce. I didn't realized just how pricey a little slice of the American Dream can be. I never saw myself as a stay at home mother but now, faced with the very real thought of missing eight hours of Bug time a day, I find myself almost paralyzed at the prospect.

No one ever said this whole kid thing was going to be easy and sweet Jesus, it sure isn't. There are moments in the very long hours home with Bug when I think holy hell, what have I done. I can't run out the door for a last minute yoga class, my postpartum hair is in desperate need of a new style for which I don't have the time, and don't even get me started on the long overdue pedicure that has been haunting me. But to even consider a life different than that which I have chosen, to be the mother of the most perfect baby girl, is ridiculous to even think about. And though mothers go back to work all the time and grapple with the very same issue, it just doesn't seem fair to anyone.

So heat up that coffee and prescribe some Valium, because come January 21 this girl is going to need it.