"Welcome To The Working Week"

I have spent the last year-and-then-some doing my best to convice Stacey (and myself) that I was unfit to work outside the home. I had a good thing going at the house with Connor. Why screw it up?

But, somewhere along the way, I exposed myself — not literally... well, yeah, literally, but I've since paid my debt to society for that offense.

Anyway, due in no small part to this blog, and my continued efforts to secure freelance writing work, Stacey has surmised that I am, in fact, capable of doing more than providing mediocre child care for our son.

Are you happy now, all you bloodthirsty, ravenous-for-a-new-update zealots?!

Plus, in my efforts to dissuade Stacey from sending me back out into the adult world, job application in hand, I convinced myself that I never wanted to work again. I left a job that I absolutely loved (as a managing editor for two monthly publications) for a job I instantly loved even more (raising my son). It seemed like finding another job I liked equally — or could even tolerare — was an impossiblity.

Turns out, I was wrong.

I've somehow weasled my way into a limited role at a large monthly music magazine as a part-time, deadline copy editor. The work is non-demanding — copy-editing, proofreading, fact checking — but it's fulfilling in a way that raising a child can never be. I'd certainly still prefer to be at home with Connor full-time, but if the alternative is a job that I enjoy as much as this one, well, that's an alternative I think I can live with.