Shellfish poisoning

Oh to be upbeat all the time in front of others. So tiring sometimes. I'm trying to maintain a world-is-my-oyster attitude about leaving work, but it still has the awful taste of planning one's own funeral.

I brainstorm lists of things to do: I'll freelance, join the women's soccer league, teach a few aerobics classes at the YMCA. I'll practice piano more in between lessons. I'll sit by the pool while the kids swim, devouring book after book after book.

But what if it ends up being none of this at all? What if I end up letting the kids vegg in front of the TV until 11 am while I do nothing but sit in my closet crying beside my dust-collecting high heels?

When people tell you kids change your life, this is exactly the sort of predicament they're talking about.

Door No. 1

So it's done, at least in my mind. I'm going about my business with every intention of giving up the job that's been so much a part of me the last six years.

In a way, it's a relief. You wave the white flag and you don't have to fight anymore. But let me admit something: there have been times when I've felt work gets in the way of play. The weather is warming up and I wonder sometimes what I'm doing between four walls. I could practice piano more, join a women's soccer league. The latter I've had to give up for lack of time.

And then there are the kids. There is a reassurance I feel secretly in knowing that I won't miss as much of their childhoods. I remember a few months ago going with my son and his preschool class on a field trip to see the circus. The circus was lame, but the way he squeezed my hand and wouldn't let it go, like he would lose me, was really something else. He won't always crave my company like that.

Make me a deal

I'm convinced that life is a good game if you know how to play it. I'm not sure I do. I'm trying to be brave, trying to see that there is more to life than work. My husband hates that I'm a workaholic. He hates that I can't turn off the job when I come home. But I'm a journalist, I say. It's the nature of the beast.

I'm also a mom who believes my 4 and 8-year-old will harbor deep resentment towards me for all those times I've put them second. And those times have been many.

So slowly I'm trying to picture myself in another life. The good life, as my husband likes to call it. The one hundreds of thousands of women are supposedly all dreaming of. Let's be honest, having summers off with the kids does sound nice. So does not freaking out over what kind of childcare I can arrange for them during every school break.

The thing is, I love my job and the people I work with, so it never felt like some huge sacrifice on my part. Plus I'm afraid. Once I lose work, I imagine I lose a big part of myself.

In spite of this, I drafted a resignation letter today. Maybe one of these days it'll make it into my boss's hands.