So we’ve arrived at that place.  The cliff, the launchpad, the crossroads, the end…the beginning.  Tomorrow marks the start of the final phase of our journey; the day I hand in my notice at work. 

This final phase of the transition is about tying up loose ends at work, transitioning my preschooler to a part time program, coming up with a catchy new domain name for this blog, and literally getting my house in order – my amazing new laundry room shelving is calling out to me, pleading for me to stock it with rolls of paper towels and boxes of sale-priced organic mac ‘n’ cheese amid artfully placed mismatched baskets and canvas totes. Okay, I may have thought about that part a bit too much.

The hubby and I have talked about how I will word my notice, both in person first thing in the morning, and by email shortly thereafter.  We also talked about what the reactions might be and whether anyone would try to talk me out of it, myself included. We surmise that some will be shocked, others disappointed, and even one will be openly smug [can’t win ’em all, right?]

I’ve decided to offer a 4 week notice period as a professional courtesy.  It’s never wise to burn bridges, and after all I’m not leaving on a bitter note or going to a rival company.  I genuinely like and respect the people I work with, and I want to stay on good terms for a lot of reasons. I’m simply choosing a different career path – or, more aptly, life path. 

So here we are, the moment of truth.  When I arrive at the office tomorrow morning, my first order of business will not be checking email or getting more coffee, but heading to my manager’s office to deliver the news.  Will I be sidetracked by fire drills, literal or metaphorical, or stall with coffee breaks and chit chat of my own making?  Will I be able to look my amazing manager in the eye and tell him my family deserves all of me instead the part outside business hours that’s exhausted all the time?  Or will I stare down at my feet as I stutter that I can’t do the working mom thing anymore?  Or will I chicken out altogether, and give in to my fear?

Tomorrow.  12 hours.  

Here we go.  


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