There was a note on a stack of envelopes and papers waiting for me this morning. 

"Please, if you get a chance, I need you to take care of my car's vehicle registration and run these photos to the post office."

Sadly, these instructions make me happy.  The thing I miss most about work is being someone's "Right Arm".  Chris pretty well takes care of himself.  I don't get messages left on scraps of paper.  I miss those.  I miss the "Mail this", the "Call them", and "Bring us up to date with our payment" notes of the working world. 

I was gleeful.  I had errands to run.  I made a list "Ballet.  Vehicle Registration.  Post Office."  As I made the list I realized there were only three things on it.  I didn't need a list for that.  I didn't care. 

I've been "unemployed" nearly a year.  Does this go away?

On the wall was a sheet to sign up as Room Parent and Assistant Room Parent.  I've spent my entire working life as "assistant" something or other, so I figured I was qualified to do that.  That, to me, meant whatever Room Parent needed me to do I would do.  And I'm a very good assistant.  Personally, given the choice, I would always rather be First Runner Up than the star of the show. 

Why, I thought, were other parents escaping through the back door?  Why, I thought, was I here willingly and on time for this meeting?  Where, I mused, was the nearest exit for me to escape from?  No, I reasoned, I'll stay.  I have to take an interest in my child's education.

A birthday card arrived in the mail.  It wasn’t for any of us – it was for a politician and the idea was that we were supposed to write our birthday message and our best wishes for the campaign and then mail it back, postage paid.  Chris dropped it in front of me on my to-do pile. 

“What am I supposed to do with this?”  I asked.

“Write our birthday wishes.” 

Duh. 

I knew the time was coming.  School supply shopping.  I remember it vividly from last year - the anxiety, the frustration of the stupid list of required items.  I remember it all too well.  But a lot has changed in a year, so while the list was the same (except requiring more) and while the store was the same, the woman doing the shopping is not.

The night before the luncheon I realized how new I am at being a SAHM.  That's Stay-At-Home-Mom, which I have also recently learned.  I had accepted an invite to a luncheon, but I had forgotten that I have two kids and no childcare.

Tomorrow I am unemployed.  Tomorrow is my last day of work after 7 years in one place.  And, while I'm certain I made the right decision, that in no way means this is easy.

When I started working there I was just me.  I went through two pregnancies there.  It's hard to leave a place I associate with my family.  And it's so hard to leave friends who have become my family at work.  I really have the best boss, and now I'm trading him in for two bosses - one 6 and one 2 - who are no where near as understanding as my 8 - 5 boss.  I am just so uncertain of how it will be not going back.

Of course, I'm assuming I won't have plenty of work to do at home.  I think it will take a while for the reality of un-employment to set in. 

There's just so much going on right now.  So many changes on the horizon.  So many large decisions to make.  Of course, right now, I just want to go to bed.  For at least one more night, there is a job I have to get to tomorrow morning.

Big things are happening in life.  Big decisions were made.  Big change is coming, and for the first time in 30 years I'm actually looking forward to the change.  Mostly.

There for a while every TV movie was about a super virus.  A super virus that would destroy all mankind and that all of our modern medicines would be worthless against.  I thought those movies were stupid. 

Trying to keep track of it all...

I had a very dear co-worker who once said you can always tell a mom by looking at a woman's purse.  Sort of a Southern-Belle take on Forrest Gump ("You can tell a lot about a person by their shoes...")  She was 100% right.

When Mommy becomes Mom...

What to do when your child is a worse backseat driver than your own mom...

They grow up. 

Oh how we love our boy.