So I survived my first week. Not a full week because I’m part-time, but a week, nonetheless. It feels like a big deal because it is, because not working in a decade has made me my own boss, damn it, but I did ok taking direction from supervisors and etc. Everybody’s been real nice, but not like in Liar Liar. So I’ll be going back on Monday.

When I first moved to Sydney, I was 25 and slim and naive; I didn’t know that I would meet Husband and propose to him six months later. I also got a good job where most everyone was similarly real nice (actually one was a little too nice) and Husband would call me pretty often, like every hour or so. He had a sales job where he drove around alot and talked to people. Pretty much the same thing he does now except less driving. And even though we’re old hat now, that trend for (talking) calling has continued to this day, except for when he is away and only checks in before he rides mechanical fucking bulls. True story. Anyhoo, we still speak on the phone constantly, even if he’s in town and just down to the shops, etc. But now, now that I’m working for the man and kind of busy (and consequently unavailable – Dear Cosmo, will this make me more desirable?), that trend has come to a timely end.

Husband was driving home from the airport during the week and normally he would call and chat and talk and catch up and converse and gossip and etc, but now? I’ve no idea how he made it home because I didn’t speak to him until I caved and sent him a silent email about preparing dinner etc.

And now it’s been me wondering about what’s going on at home, specifically about homework and afternoon jobs for the kids. I had to go so far as to create a cheat sheet so shit would get done in my absence, since it kind of didn’t the first two days while I was at work. It seems a simple idea, but when four dudes come into the house and everyone wants to do something different, I guess that’s how it goes without my calming influence to guide them toward standard requirements, ha!

But yeah, now I’m the one missing out on stuff like fighting about homework and coercing the children into unpacking the dishwasher and sharing the lego. Maybe it will make me appear more desirable of everything to my kids if I’m not there for that stuff, even though it’s been my domain for the last five years.

It’s funny to hear the kids talking about me working, now that it’s a reality rather than a myth or legend from before they were born.

It’s time to put on my tiara and own it.