It’s Thursday. I’ve had yesterday, today and tomorrow off. Plan was, my last day at work was going to be last Tuesday. Boss made offer Tuesday. I am staying until the end of April now. Hubby joked yesterday that I am the only one who, in an economy where people are having a tough time finding a job, I having trouble of letting go of my job.

It’s true, the part about my not being able to let go of my job. I am very proud of my work. I work hard and take pride in knowing I am making our targets – or almost making impossible targets. I am proud that, when I first started working there we were at the bottom of the branches, now we are almost at the number 1 position most months. I am also proud that my bosses think so much of me that my two week notice is going into the two month stretch.

Pride is not always a good thing. Karma will come and bite you in the bumm for it. (I’m crossing my fingers that I’m too short for Karma to notice me on this issue.) On the other hand, it’s not a personal kind of pride (you know the people, they take pride in their appearance because they wear the latest and greatest fashions from Byrant Park every year), but a pride that I am doing something to help my branch and my company by being good at what I do. That they took a chance hiring me, no previous accounting experience, and I have worked to learn and become good at what I do.

I am also having some worries – probably post-partum related – that I will not be a good enough stay-at-home mom. I love the idea – staying home all day with the babies, being able to shuttle the teenager back and forth to school until the summer, getting in the groove with the garden and canning items for use in the winter, getting our chicken coop going (found out today there is no zoning ban for our area of the PeeDee) and getting all the information for homeschooling the teenager next year (and, eventually, the two youngest girls).

But, what if I screw something up? Rogan and I often joke about the teenager getting free therapy when she goes off to college in a few years – if she goes to college *sigh* (that is a whole different post). But what if I do something, or don’t do something, for their development or education that is such a horrid thing, consciously or unconsciously, that they are totally scarred for life??!!

Hmmm…maybe I should start taking the Zoloft again, huh?

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