Last week, I caught up with my friend Sarah over lunch at the playground. Our carefree playdates are dwindling; her youngest is starting kindergarten this fall, and she’s knee-deep in job interviews. “I’m so anxious,” she admitted.
“I can imagine,” I replied, feeling a wave of empathy as my palms grew clammy. “The interview process can be so stressful.”
“No, it’s not just that,” she corrected. “I’m anxious about actually getting an offer. Until now, it felt like a fun daydream—‘Oh, I’ll work again one day.’ But now they’re inquiring about salary and travel, and I’m kind of freaking out.”
I felt my stomach churn for her, wiping my hands on my sweatpants, which were already dotted with jelly stains. I, too, had been living in my own “Someday I’ll return to work” fantasy. Reality was starting to sink in—she was truly stepping back into the workforce. She would have to wear actual pants. What would her life look like now?
Six years ago, I transitioned from my job to stay home with my eldest, and the abrupt shift was like whiplash. My doctor described it as an “adjustment period,” handing me a tissue while writing a prescription. I felt like I had landed on an alien planet. Stress no longer stemmed from looming deadlines or major presentations—instead, it revolved around the knowledge that I could fall down the stairs at 8 a.m. and no one would notice until 6 p.m. Even then, my husband might not come looking for me until he felt hungry.
Initially, I floundered, but with two more children, I found my rhythm. My understanding of the corporate world was gradually replaced by story hour schedules and a mental map of the best parks. Over the years, I learned to walk slower and eat faster. I don’t buy pants unless they serve as sleepwear, and I visit three grocery stores just to assemble one salad.
People often ask what I plan to do once my kids are all in school. I used to joke about lounging around, gathering cobwebs and enjoying the fruits of my labor. In those early days of motherhood, when I was struggling mentally, that dream seemed appealing. But now, even uttering those words brings tears to my eyes, as it conjures images of me conversing with the toilet brush. I’m currently pushing myself to move at a pace that allows me to maintain my sanity; if I go any slower, I fear I’ll drift into a void. They say idle hands are the devil’s playground, and in my home, the devil enjoys munching on puffer tacos while spying on the neighbors. I don’t want to be that mom.
In a year and a half, I’ll be putting on my “big girl pants” and stepping out into the world. The thought is both thrilling and terrifying. It’s a leap from my cozy cocoon into the vast unknown, the proverbial fast lane.
“Does my brain even still function?” I wonder, as I discover a mini Snickers bar lodged between the couch cushions. What if I have to work late? What if my kids fall ill? What will I do in the summer? What if I have to gasp multitask?
Even animals are given a transition period before being reintroduced to the wild—they are retrained in survival skills and placed in controlled scenarios to assess their reactions. Jumping into a totally foreign environment without guidance could lead to disaster.
I glanced across the picnic table at Sarah, taking a big bite of my salad. We might be doomed. I reminisced about my old job—it feels like eons ago. I can barely recall what it was like to go ten minutes without asking someone if they need to use the restroom. I wonder if I’m even capable of functioning in a professional setting or if I’ll instinctively blurt out questions about potties during meetings.
Then I remembered my previous workplace had someone who brewed coffee, stocked the snack drawer, and even cleaned the bathrooms every night.
“Well, at least if you fall down the stairs, someone will call for help right away,” I suggested. She nodded thoughtfully. Perhaps that’s the silver lining we need to focus on right now.
For more insights on navigating the complexities of motherhood and work-life balance, check out this blog post on Life After Kindergarten.
In summary, transitioning from stay-at-home mom to the workforce can feel overwhelming, but it’s a journey many have faced. With a little preparation and support, mothers can find their footing and balance their new responsibilities.
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