Grandma arrived safely, and all is right with the world. Today was my "I Mean It This Time, I'm Really Out Of Here" Last Day. Had to go in and do one last check with the Alpha Geek and transfer some accounting stuff blah blah blah but I am now officially stick-a-fork-in-me DONE.
Mom and I celebrated over ginger beer at the brew pub at the bottom of the hill in our neighborhood. Then we came home, Mom cleaned a few things and I read the first chapter of the new Bob Woodward book before zonking out. When I got up, Daddy and Grandma had already gone to get Gigi from school. I'd feel guilty about zonking out while everyone else is being busy if I weren't due in less than a week.
I might feel a twinge of guilt for being on leave for three months in an island paradise. But not likely. On the one hand, the company spent a lot of money to get me here and to pay my rent and utlities, so if I'm not actually working, do I look like some sort of freeloader? On the other hand, it's only three months -- one fifth of what I took with Gigi -- and half of that is unpaid. Island Paradise is an expensive place. And it's not as though I'm going to be sitting on my butt eating bonbons and reading novels at the beach. I'm going to be tending to an infant 24-7, recovering from birth, and wrangling a toddler. Is it an office? No. But is it "work"? Oh yes.
And in 12 more weeks, I'm probably going to be just as tired and back at the office full time. Oh, I can hardly wait... What does it say about me, that I haven't even given birth and I'm already dreading going back to work?