Blank space. Missing pieces to a puzzle. Black holes. Dead air. Awkward silences.
The growing gap in my resume.
Somehow, the birth of my second child has shown a spotlight on the empty space that is only increasing in length on my professional timeline. It’s a creeping little thought that pops up every so often in the rare quiet spaces – how will I overcome this when it’s time to on-ramp?
It’s not a question I’m honestly prepared to answer right now, nor do I think I need to. It’s more a seed to be planted in my brain, nurtured and hopefully one day it will bloom into some brilliant idea of what’s next and how to make it happen.
And I’m okay with that.
BUT — why is there always a but? — I’ve also noticed how far away from that professional gal I have traveled. And not just because I haven’t worn a pair of heels in months. I had to get a tutorial from my father this weekend on the health care bill, I reach for the grocery flier and coupons out of the Sunday paper instead of the Arts & Books sections, and my go-to conversation topics are peanut’s latest knock-knock jokes.
I was recently friended on Facebook by a former boss. A former boss I respect for his wit, his insight and his writing above all else. After accepting his request, I took a look at my profile page with new eyes and it screamed one word: Mom. Yes, I am a mom. Yes, I am proud of it. Yes, I choose to stay home and devote this time in my life to being a mother. No, I don’t regret it. No, I wouldn’t change it.
No, that isn’t all of me.
Right now, though, it is. Right now, I need to enjoy the tickles and snuggles and midnight gazes before they are lost to the chaos of their childhood. One day I’ll catch up on the career track, one day I’ll have something interesting to say about something other than pumpkin’s sleep patterns, and one day I’ll stop worrying if former bosses think my status messages include too much momspeak.
After all, peanut’s knock-knock jokes are pretty darn funny.