The Trial Week is Over. Now What?

For one week, I was home with my kids.

And I loved it.

I loved the slower mornings. I loved being there for the little things. I loved not feeling like I was constantly watching the clock or trying to figure out how to squeeze one more thing into the day.

But more than anything, I loved what happened in my head.

My brain was in one lane.

For one week, I wasn't trying to balance two completely separate worlds that don't really overlay.

I wasn't physically at home while mentally still at work.

I wasn't thinking about an email while making lunch.

I wasn't thinking about tomorrow's meeting while listening to my kids tell me about their day.

I wasn't constantly switching between being an employee and being a mom.

I was just there. My kids got all of me.

One world.

One version of me.

And there was something about that that felt really good.

It felt peaceful.

It felt natural.

It felt like I could breathe.

And somewhere during that week, I realized:

I could actually do this.

I could be home.

I could love being home.

I could see myself building a life around being home with my kids.

And that was the answer I had been trying to find.

The funny thing is, I can also see how being home could become monotonous.

I know myself.

I would need things that were mine.

I would need time where I wasn't just Mom.

I would want a side project. Something to work toward. Something creative. Something that challenged me and gave me a sense of accomplishment.

I would need more moms' nights.

More playdates.

More adult conversations.

More reasons to get out of the house.

And I think having the kids in school would make a huge difference.

Because the trial week wasn't exactly a normal stay-at-home-mom week.

It was summer.

The kids were home.

I had them with me all day.

And I still loved it.

But I also know that if this became my reality, I would need to intentionally create a life that had room for me in it, too.

I don't want to disappear into motherhood.

I want to be present for my kids and still be me.

So, the trial week ended.

And then I went back to work.

And that's when everything got complicated.

Because I don't hate my job.

I'm good at what I do.

I like being successful.

I like being capable.

I like having something that is mine.

There are parts of my career that I genuinely enjoy.

So I went back to work knowing that.

And then came 5 p.m.

That first Monday, I watched myself try to make the transition from work to mom.

And I hated who I was in my own head.

I was fighting myself not to check my email.

Thinking about what I hadn't finished.

Thinking about tomorrow.

Trying to shut off one part of my brain while turning on another.

And suddenly I'm standing there with my kids, trying to be present, while mentally still carrying work.

I was short with my kids.

Short with my husband.

Frustrated.

Overwhelmed.

And constantly aware that I had maybe three hours to fit all of my time with my kids into the space between the end of my workday and bedtime.

Three hours.

Three hours to make dinner.

Play.

Listen.

Give baths.

Read books.

Clean up.

Be patient.

Be present.

And somehow actually enjoy it.

And I kept thinking:

How do I keep doing this every day while I'm trying to make a decision about whether this is the life I actually want?

Because now I could see the contrast.

I had just experienced what it felt like to have my brain in one lane.

And now I was back to living in two.

And I don't think these two worlds overlay very well.

Work needs a version of me that is focused, strategic, responsive and available.

Motherhood needs a version of me that is softer, patient, emotionally available and goofy.

And every day, I'm expected to move between them.

Sometimes within minutes.

Sometimes while still mentally carrying the other one.

And now I can't stop thinking about what I experienced during that trial week.

Because I have an answer.

I know I loved being home.

I know I could do it.

I know I could be happy doing it.

And somehow, having the answer has made everything harder.

Because knowing what you want and knowing what to do about what you want are two completely different things.

Now my nerves are firing in overdrive.

Every possible doomsday scenario is showing up.

What if something happens financially?

What if we need more money?

What if I leave and regret it?

What if I can't get back into my career?

What if I give up something I've worked really hard for?

What if I stay because I'm scared?

What if I miss working?

What if I don't?

What happens to my identity?

What happens to my independence?

What happens to the part of me that has always been ambitious?

And then there is the question I keep coming back to:

Okay. So what do I do now?

Because this isn't a hypothetical anymore.

The trial is over.

I have the answer.

I could actually do this.

I could actually choose to stay home.

And that makes this real.

I just don't know what the next step is.

Maybe the next step is relooking at the financials and understanding exactly what this decision would mean.

Maybe it's figuring out whether there is a way to work differently.

Maybe it's finding a side project that could keep a piece of my professional identity alive. (aka this blog and a few other things I have been thinking of)

Maybe it's talking through all of this with my husband.

Maybe it's all of it.

I don't know yet.

And I think that's what is making me so anxious.

It's one thing to wonder if you want something.

It's another thing entirely to realize that you actually do.

Because now I have to figure out what I'm willing to change to make room for it.

I thought the trial week was going to tell me whether I could stay home.

It did.

What I didn't expect was that the answer would leave me sitting here asking:

Now what?

I don't have the plan yet.

I don't have the timeline.

I don't have every financial question completely answered.

I don't know exactly what my next chapter looks like.

But I know the trial week showed me something I can't ignore anymore.

I loved being home.

I loved having my brain in one lane.

I loved being present.

And I loved the life I experienced for that week.

Now I have to figure out how to take that feeling and turn it into a life that is still me.