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.