I started my job on Thursday of last week, but Steve has to finish something at his job so I've been home all week and will do my first full week next week.

I have such varied feelings about the whole thing, and all of them intense. The two days I worked, I spent three quarters of my time plotting my escape, but I was strangely satisfied with the whole thing by the end of the second day.

I have been fantasizing about working for years.

What I didn't consider the whole time I was at work was how relaxed and content my husband would be when I got home. The contented husband effect tips the balance toward worthwhile.

The same week that I started working, I also started teaching a class to a dozen 5-7 year olds at our home schooling co-op. A friend of mine asked me if I was nervous. I told her I was. I was talking about teaching. But she was talking about my job.

I'm not nervous about working. I LOVE working. What I am scared of is losing the intensity of the connection that I have with my kids. When Willie freaks out as I put him in his car seat, I know that it is because he has just figured out that he can get his own self in there and he thinks it's a great trick and doesn't want to miss an opportunity to perform it. Would I know what the hell he's freaking out about if I wasn't with him 24/7?

I'm wondering if anticipating missing my kids is worse than the actual missing that will happen.

I probably won't be reporting on just how my job is here. You'll have to call for that.