I laughed because I had decided to quit the newspaper just hours before the gift was given to me. It seemed appropriate.

The necklace is available on Etsy from Emilinia Ballerina if you’re feeling kinda snappy too.

Yesterday was my last day, and today I am in full-on mope mode. I’m vascillating between knowing this was the right decision, feeling like a failure, panicking about “what’s next” and generally wishing things could have been different. But they weren’t different. It wasn’t the right job for me for various reasons.

It’s not that I didn’t love the job. Oh, I did. I learned so much about photography over the past year and some odd months. I own the title of Photographer now, which is why, if you caught it in an earlier post, I said that I would still be a Photographer (yes, with a capital P), long after I no longer worked at the paper. I said on Facebook that this was a decision that was four months in the making, but really it’s been a constant reevaluation for longer than that. I finally accepted one truth: I am worth more.

It’s been a hard couple of weeks. I didn’t want to write that letter. I didn’t want to quit. I didn’t want it to come to this. But I also wanted more. More of lots of things. But, most specifically, more of Me back. Due to some specifics with the job that I won’t go into, I lost a part of Me somewhere in there. When it came to my days off from the paper, I didn’t pick up my camera. That is entirely unlike me. I lost a passion for photography. I lost my creativity. I kept taking Tracey Clark‘s classes in hopes of finding that passion and creativity, but I was burnt out. The classes reinforced that realization; I had nothing left to give for myself.

I have some offers on the table regarding photography jobs. I have told each offering party that I am taking the next month off. I don’t want to do anything more than focus on my family, my writing and myself until sometime in early March. I need this time to reevaluate what I want from my photography and what I want from myself. I also don’t need to traipse all over creation in this crazy weather… unless I want to do so.

And so, while I make some decisions and fall back in love with my camera, I’d like to announce something that I’ve been considering for quite some time. Today I am announcing the launch of my very own Etsy store.

I actually started that Etsy account with intent to start a store in 2009. It apparently took the year of Possibility to make me actually do it. Right now I only have three photos in either 8×10 or 5×7 available in the store. I am working on launching more of the butterfly series sometime soon. (As an aside, I meant to have more ready but the Viral Ick going through our house sidelined some of my good intentions.) If there seems to be an interest — at all — in my store, I’ll start stocking more and perhaps taking custom requests. Oh, and note cards, because I kinda want some too. For now, it’s just some of my favorites available to hang in your home.

I’m not expecting it to be a huge success as the art you hang on your wall usually has to be something that moves you on various personal levels. But I figured I’d give it a go. You know, living in my Possibility and what not.

As an added bonus for readers, I have a coupon code for my store. Enter GRANDOPENING at checkout for 20% off of your purchase.

All that said, next week I’m going to be taking a discussion I’ve been having with Calliope at Creating Motherhood and discuss it further. You know, when I’m not talking Steelers football. But, yes, I’m having some feelings about guilt and failure and some worries about sanity and it’s time to readdress those as I do with every career move.

And so, yes, I’m okay. I will be okay. This is just another step in my year of Possibility. I knew this was going to be a Big Year, but I had no idea it was going to start out this way! (Or, I kinda did, but I hoped otherwise.)

Kids are unpredictable, of course. Mine are no different. I had the normal questions of any parent going anywhere in public with their children: Will they behave? Will they argue/fight? Will they whine? Will they whine incessantly? Will they dart out into snowy traffic while we get out of the car? Will they run out into the basketball court and yell, “HEY PRETTY GIRL! CAN I PLAY TOO?!” Will they poke each other in the eye? Will they randomly choose this place and time to pull a cuss word from under their hat? Will they cry? Will they scream? Will they melt on the floor in Epic Tantrum Proportions? Will they embarrass me? Or themselves? Will I get anything done?

Sometimes I forget that, at their core, my kids are pretty good kids. They’re not perfect. In fact, LittleBrother did poke BigBrother in the eye with his Leapster “pen.” There was some minimal whining, but it lasted less than a minute total. (I know, right?) And the best part?

They had a good time.

And, shockingly, so did I.

LittleBrother is beyond exhausted today, the both of them having been up two hours past their bedtime last night. And I may be excited to be going to work sans-children this evening. But, I’ve got to say, I’m glad they came with me last night. The Big Long Winter months drive us all a little batty with one another; the arguing, the fighting, the aforementioned eye-poking. I begin to question myself and doubt my parenting ability. I needed a reminder that we’re all just a little Stir Crazy, but we will survive the winter with our sanity — and manners — in tact.

This is not one of those times.

This time? It’s my fault and my choice of career(s).

I’m in Las Vegas for CES 2011 (more on that on my landing page). And yesterday? FireDad had a big test at the fire department. For those in the fire life, you know what that means. For those who aren’t, in order to gain a promotion in the fire service, you have to take a test (and pass it, obviously). It involves lots of studying and hard work and memorization and math (!) and general will power to make it through.

And yesterday? I wasn’t there for my husband.

I thought of him. I called him. I sent up a prayer right at the time he was sitting down to take the test. But, man, I didn’t expect the — not quite guilt but something heavy — to weigh so heavily on me. I’ve had to miss stuff for the kids here and there due to work, but never something that was Big and Important for my partner in life.

And while I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing — living in possibility — I can’t help but feel that I let him down somehow. It’s hard to explain. It’s not as if I could have taken the test for him, or held his hand while he took said test, or stood outside with pom-poms. Or done anything more than give him a kiss before he left and one when he returned. But I know how hard he’s worked for this, just as I’m sure he knows how hard I’ve worked for this.

I also hope he knows that I am proud of him — no matter what — and that he is always my hero, even when I’m far, far away. I’ll smother him with kisses when I get home. Promise.

I love my life. Expect a similar post next Saturday when I’ll be shooting Ohio State versus Penn State from the field. I repeat: I love my life.

Minus arriving a few minutes late at a soccer game that ended up being called mid-game due to thunder, the day went off without a hitch. In fact, I got the photos I needed before the thunder rumbled across the cloudy sky. And the boys thought the “Big Boy Soccer Game” was the most interesting thing since, well, playing soccer themselves. I was The Best Mom Ever simply for bringing them along to a soccer game.

As a bonus, during the required cease of play after that first rumble of thunder as they waited to see if it would quit, the boys posed for my camera. Yeah, I don’t know who they are either. But, man, I was so glad to have them with me yesterday.

Of course, there were obligatory funny faces, too.

Then FireDad met us outside one of the local high schools after he got off work, where we switched vehicles and he took the children home. We exchanged a quick kiss as BigBrother exclaimed, “But I wanted to go to the bolley-ball game!” Maybe another time, kiddo.

I mean, if you were a four year old and you were asked, “Do you want to be a firefighter like your daddy or a writer/photographer like your mommy,” what would you choose? If you were a two year old and asked the same question, what would you answer? I lose every time. Every single time.

I don’t run into burning buildings. I stand outside with my camera and try to capture the action; I don’t live it. I write about what I felt afterward; I don’t tell the firefighter stories that start with, “So there I was, flames shooting seventy feet in the air.” Feelings are always less interesting than flames shooting in the air. I don’t save people’s lives. I don’t drive a big, red, shiny fire truck.

I’m so boring.

I was getting ready to head out to work last night and LittleBrother was bebopping around the kitchen. I told him that I was getting ready to go to work and asked, “At the new-paper?” I confirmed that and asked if he wanted to go with me and said, “No.” Then I launched into a series of (leading) questions and asked him if he wanted to be a firefighter or a photographer when he grew up.

“Fireman.”

Okay, so I apparently need to work on gender-inclusive titles on top of my children thinking I’m boring. Thrilling.

At that point I pulled a typical Mommy Guilt moment and boo-hoo-ed that no one wanted to be like me. FireDad gave me a look that said, without saying anything at all, that I was being lame on top of being boring. Even more thrilling. I put on my coat, whined about the weather and started to give out goodbye kisses. During my whining and dressing for the Never Ending Snow, LittleBrother had made his way to the toy box, found his (play) camera and came to take my picture.

“Say boogers and cookies, Mommy.”

Aww, maybe he is more like me than I think. Thrilling.

Eventually he finished his time with the Army. Now he only works at the ambulance company on an as-needed basis which, thankfully, is a rare occurrence. Today being one of those days I am left to think about how firefighters often work more than one job. Quite honestly, it’s one of the reasons that working outside the home is so difficult for firefighter spouses. As Val from Fire Fighter Wife said,

If I held a 9-5 I’d have been fired many times in the last 3 years.

It’s true. Many things prompted my departure from the news station in 2006. I felt that I was missing too much of BigBrother’s developmental awesomeness. I was paying out almost all of what I was making in child care. As FireDad was still working both jobs and still active duty in the military at the time, our schedule was stretched past its elasticity. I had missed too much work due to scheduling conflicts, doctor’s appointments and child care issues. When I suffered a miscarriage that summer and my employer refused to be understanding, that straw broke the camel’s back and I started paving the way to come home to work.

Working at home with the fire schedule isn’t without challenges either. Trying to meet deadlines while chasing two little boys around our house (see pictures here) isn’t always the easiest thing ever. If I hadn’t left the news station, I’m sure that I would have been fired at some point since the fall of that year. Like Val mentioned, we’ve taken extended vacations, stayed an extra day or two at my parents or just generally had a relaxing day when we need it. As FireDad is working at the ambulance company today and the fire department for 24 hours tomorrow, I’m going to go ahead and claim Wednesday as a family fun day. But my deadlines will still loom and the work will need to be finished despite any amount of fun that is to be had.

Adding in my part time job has been an interesting transition that is working surprisingly well. I had thought that while the kids were still small and at home with me most of the time (BigBrother goes to preschool three days a week) that I couldn’t work outside the home. I’ve found something that may not pay the big bucks but allows me to stretch my creative wings just a little bit and talk to adults on occasion. So far the boys have mostly been with either FireDad or a grandparent when I’ve had to work. Once we had a day like today where our schedules simply conflicted and we had to call in our trusted, awesome babysitter. I think I’ve used her less this year than I did last year before I started working. Life is funny that way.

As I sit here and count down the hours until FireDad is home today so that I can get some of my things done, I am reminded to be grateful for the jobs we do have. We’re the lucky ones, especially knowing that so many families are struggling right now. Yes, sometimes it’s hard to schedule. Sometimes we’re overtired. We’ve had to make hard decisions and follow through with the difficulties that followed. But not only are we both working but we’re both working in/at things we love while making time for family. Yes, I think we are the luckiest.

Remind me of this the next time that FireDad is off on a fire for more than 36 hours, okay?

In that photo you can see two laptops, two cell phones, my card reader, my favorite pen, a cup of coffee and the corner of the couch that I do most of my leaning on. It is here that I write, edit, e-mail, network, procrastinate, tweet, play Bejeweled Blitz, press refresh and generally take on the world of a freelance writer and editor. I have started doing some work at the dining room table again but I prefer the couch. (Speaking of, we’re in the market for a new couch and a new recliner. Anyone know of any good deals?)

What you don’t see in the first picture is the mess that my living room becomes while I do my morning work. Here’s a small glimpse.

I would have shown you my entire living room at that point yesterday but it was trashed. The Duplo blocks were out. More puzzles were at my feet as LittleBrother is deep in a puzzle phase. All of our cars were strewn across the floor. The Veggie Tales castle was turned over as was the fire department. And two new sleeping bags were thrown into the mix as well. The truth is that I spend my mornings doing work and building puzzles or coloring or racing or having my toes run over all at the same time. I’m working but I’m also playing with and/or parenting my boys. I had this idea, prior to doing it, that working from home was easy and somewhat glamorous. It is neither. Rewarding? Sure. Comfortable? Totally. But it’s nothing that I had imagined.

Anyway, thanks to all of this…

…I haven’t been working outside the home very much. I was called off on Saturday and almost didn’t work yesterday. I did manage to get out and photograph a game. As I was editing some photos, I took a picture of me, hard at work, which, minus the couch, doesn’t really look much different than what I’m doing at home, now does it?

Things you don’t see me working on this week in this post include: seven loads of laundry, baking three dozen cookies, trying new recipes, Swiffering our new floor and generally helping run the household. (That said, my loving husband did all of the shoveling this week.)

What I hope you see in some of these jokes is that I love the work I do, both at home and away. I am a lucky woman in that regard. I hope that continues. If you want to see some other work photos, visit this week’s You Capture challenge over at I Should Be Folding Laundry. Next week’s challenge is kisses. Sounds fun to me!

Now back to work. Really! I’m at This Woman’s Work’s house talking about our book. WOO!

They’re right in asking because I haven’t mentioned it since I got the job. The truth is that I’m not going to pull a Dooce. I’m never going to discuss the ins and outs of working at the office, people in the office or anything of that nature. Even if I hated my job (which I don’t), I would say, publicly, that it is great! And I’m loving it! And it couldn’t be better! Right?

What I do want to discuss is the transition my family has made over the past two months with my return to working outside the home. Now, to be fair, I’m still working from home full time with my freelancing gigs. In fact, over the past few months, I’ve well surpassed full time and am working some crazy hectic hours. And, you know, writing a book on top of it all because I don’t have enough to do. My outside the home job has me working around 14 hours per week, give or take. Not a lot of hours, true, but I didn’t take this job to make the big bucks. I took it because it because the opportunity that I had been hoping for presented itself and my husband and I agreed that I’d be a fool to pass it up.

Plus, I like it. And that’s always good.

BigBrother hasn’t really said much about the transition. He does tell people that I work at the newspaper now, whereas he used to say I just worked at home. Which is true but he really has no idea what I do on the computer. When I tell him that I write, he says, “But where’s your pencil?” Touche, dude. Touche. The funny thing is that the offices at the newspaper look directly into BigBrother’s preschool. If he wasn’t so busy socializing learning, he could wave at me on days that I stop in after I drop him off.

LittleBrother, on the other hand, was a bit more confused about the whole mommy going to work thing. To him, my work involves a desk downstairs or the couch. On evenings that took me out of the house, he would ask where I was going and why and fifteen other questions that are far too advanced for a two year old to be asking. To be fair, he was doubly traumatized because FireDad went to the Fire Academy for two weeks. For awhile after that, he thought that when either of us left the house that we would be gone for weeks at a time. Even now when he asks if daddy is at work, he clarifies and says, “Not at fire academy, right?” Poor little man. He’s been giving me a lot of, “Mommy stay with me today/tonight, yes,” at bedtime or even in the morning. It’s almost heartbreaking.

Almost.

Because you have to realize that the kids are spending time away from me with their very beloved daddy. Or, on occasion, Nana or YiaYia (grandmothers). I really don’t have much guilt in leaving my children with these people. In fact, I have fallen more in love with our firefighter family because of the schedule that my husband keeps (24 hours on, 48 hours off). He’s here when I can’t be. Perfection. Nothing really has changed from their routine. Especially as I do the majority of my work after they’re in bed, well, they’re not really experiencing any change.

Have I missed the bedtimes that I’ve had to skip out on to shoot a basketball game? Kind of. I miss the snuggling part but not the wrangling part. Have I felt a bit guilty walking away when I’ve been asked to stay? Most definitely. Do I really feel that is okay? Yes. LittleBrother has had me, by his side, for two straight years. Until this past week, he wouldn’t let us leave him in the childcare at the YMCA so I could get a little workout in. Today? He stayed. Without crying. At all. Progress has been made. Is it because I’m working outside the home? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe he was just finally ready. Or maybe it’s a few things snowballing into one thing. I don’t know.

I can tell you one thing: I’m happy.

I’m busy. Very busy. Kind of mostly exhausted most days. But, oh, I’m happy. I’m enjoying myself. Thoroughly. I’m not quite great at what I’m doing yet. The learning is what makes it fun though. I’m learning things about photography. I’m learning things about time management. I’m learning to let go of certain things. I’m learning about myself and things I didn’t know that I didn’t know. I’m learning how to function again at the demands of others. I’m just learning. I feel constantly challenged, constantly pushed and, really, that’s when I do my best work. Minus the laundry. But I’ll get there. I think.

And so, to answer the question of, “How’s it going?”

I’m doing just fine. In fact, we’re all doing just fine. Thanks for asking. And I mean that: thank you.

For those still not in the know, I’ll be a part-time photographer for our local newspaper. Due to my freelance writing career that I’ve built over the past three years, I may also be presented with an opportunity to write from time to time. It all feels very surreal. How did I get here? Where did this come from?

Now that it’s kind of finalized (awaiting the big okay from the people who sign the checks), I can go ahead and talk about everything that went through my mind this past weekend. It’s a big shift to go from being your own boss (somewhat as I do have contract bosses) to re-entering an office type setting. In fact, the night before my Big Interview, I had a nightmare (because it wasn’t a dream) that I had gone back to work for my previous employer at the news station. It was horrible and I woke in a cold sweat. Do you think my subconscious was working on overdrive regarding my fears and misgivings about this particular opportunity?

The truth is that I was scared. I left the news station (not the same as the newspaper) in 2006 because it wasn’t working for my family. The drama that they gave me in the months after my miscarriage only further sealed the deal. I left with a teeny-tiny writing lead and hoped that I could turn it into a freelancing career. I did. I didn’t miss Small City Politics or Office/Newsroom Drama. I didn’t miss being overworked because my boss knew that I would do the job right, the first time. I didn’t miss much of anything. Except the process of creating news itself. One could argue that I do that in a way here and in my freelancing career but if you’ve ever worked in a newsroom, in any form or fashion, you know what I mean. There’s a beautiful edge to the air. I said it to FireDad over the years that I sometimes missed that feeling. But I wasn’t ready to go back (and never to that news station).

It was always my intention to approach the newspaper once the boys were in school. This opportunity presented itself and, after much discussion with my husband, we decided that it would be a step backward to ignore it now. In fact, one of the editors agreed with me yesterday. I had stipulations going into yesterday’s interview. I don’t work on Sundays or, at the very least, before 12:15 on a Sunday. I simply cannot work the main holidays (Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving). I can’t work more than (extremely) part-time at this phase in our family life. And our long-standing all-family vacation in August needed to be accepted, paid or not. It’s the only week my whole family is available to traipse down to the beach. I’m not sending my sons and my husband and staying at home. While I realized that I would be starting at the bottom of the totem pole with this particular company, I knew that these things had to come together in order for this to be a plausible situation for my family.

And they did.

Furthermore, even with my training which starts next week, my boss wants to work with FireDad’s schedule. (For those unfamiliar with the fire life, he works 24 hours at the fire department and then is home for 48.) Which leads me to my final point: Mommy Guilt.

I was having inner conflict all weekend about whether this was the right move, not only for me, but for my family at this point in our lives. This opportunity came before I expected, before I had planned on heading back to doing what it is that I love to do professionally. But I also love to be with my children, to be their Mommy. With this latest incarnation of the Mommy War Drama hitting television and blogs last week, I was being exceptionally hard on myself. Now I can laugh off the general nastiness of the whole ordeal. If leaving my children at home with their father or letting them spend a Saturday afternoon with any one of their many grandparents (who fight over them, by the way) is neglectful, well, I guess I’ll just have to pay for their therapy when they’re older. Those poor, neglected children of mine with too many people to love them; how will they ever survive?

I’m nervous, of course. I do realize that this is a gigantic, seismic shift in how the core of this family operates. TheBrothers are used to Daddy going to work and Mommy “working on her com-pay-ter.” While they will be with their Daddy or the aforementioned long line of grandparents, I still have to be the one to give the kisses and walk out the door. I still have to be the one to properly manage my time working outside the home, working at home (because I’m not dropping any of my writing gigs nor do I plan to), managing the home (though FireDad is a great help) and making sure I get enough face time with those kids of mine. I have to re-learn how to eat a healthy meal outside the home, deal with the previously mentioned Small City Politics and Office/Newsroom Drama and generally present myself as a professional even when I desperately just want to get home and snuggle my children. I’m not mentally sugar-coating this change in our lives. I expect it to be hard. I expect to come home in tears at times. I expect to look at FireDad and say, “Why did you let me do this?” (What? You’ve never blamed your husband for anything that you did? Uh, me either.)

But I’m hoping to love it. Not ever second of it. Just the whole of it. And I’m hoping that my children understand, if not now, someday. Because while I’ve been a happy camper for the past three years, living out my dreams and chasing them through the leaves, it’s been a long, long time since I’ve looked this happy.

(Shirt via Threadless.)

I’m excited to embark on this new journey. I’m scared, of course. But that kind of adrenaline pumping, see-what’s-around-this-bend kind of fear. The leaves of change have definitely fallen in our yard. I suppose it’s time to rake them up and jump into the pile of change we have created. What else is there to do?

Except to photograph every last blessed moment of it all.