Things would be easier next year when Abbi went to kindergarten. I didn’t know who decided to make preschool only a half day, but I was ready to drop Abbi off at eight and pick her up at three. Not that I wouldn’t miss her being with me during the day, but we were both ready for it. Time apart would do us good.

I kept replaying my conversation with Leo this morning. He had been hesitant to assign me a new job because he was afraid I wouldn’t have enough time for anything major, but I’d been telling him for months that I was ready to get my old assignments back. Besides, the person who called about the interview specifically asked for me, so he didn’t have much choice. I’d taken a three-month maternity leave from my job as a writer at the Forum and never returned full-time. My job was the reason we’d moved to Arcata. I won a George Polk Award for a local investigative piece I did on elder abuse in two of the best nursing homes in Royal Heights. It gathered me all kinds of attention after they arrested two of the directors, and job offers came in from all over the country. It had always been my dream to move to Northern California, and it was like it was meant to be when we discovered Scott’s sales company had an office located in the adjoining town.

We decided I would stay home with Abbi and only work part-time until she started school, since the first five years were so important. I was glad I did it, but there were times when the boredom of being at home without a real job nearly drove me mad. It was all worth it, though, to see how happy and well adjusted Abbi was turning out to be. I’d never met a kid who was more delightful. Everyone said it too. It wasn’t just because I was her mom. She was happy and content, no matter where she was or what was going on around her. She was in good spirits if she took a nap and wouldn’t fall apart if she didn’t, like so many other children did. Even my best friend, Christina, who swore she was never going to have kids, joked that she’d have one if she got one as good as Abbi. I couldn’t take any credit for her easygoing manner. She just came out that way.

Scott had been unsure about me transitioning back to work full-time when I suggested it, but I was bored with the trivial side stories I was assigned. I could only write about the local bake sales and watering-schedule issues so many times before I was ready to pull my hair out. I wanted to work on stories with substance again.

“It’s good for Abbi to see her mother working. I want her to have an image of me that comprises both,” I had said over dinner the other night, nearly gagging at how liberal and progressive I sounded. Really, I was just ready to go back to work. I loved being Abbi’s mom, but I also loved my job.