Back to reality

I did it. I went back to work today.

After being at home for 88 straight days, leaving Mason was hard. More than hard. I walked into the Olive Garden in tears. Luckily, it was pretty busy, so it actually went kind of fast. But I forget how to do it. I ran around for five hours like a headless chicken. I forgot if there were onions in the arrabiata sauce or on top of the shrimp primavera. I didn't know what kind of beer we had. I had no idea there was such a thing as a chicken flatbread.

And I stumbled over all my words. Where the phrases used to come easy ("Would you like cheese on that?" "Coke, Diet Coke, Cherry Coke, Sprite, Dr. Pepper", "Care for a complimentary sample of our house red wine?" "Blah, blah, blah") I completely forgot what to say. Instead, I offered cheese on top of iced tea, dessert before the meal, and tried to card an 80-year-old man.

It appears that all I know how to talk about anymore is poop. I'm unable to have a conversation with adults. And that's fine with me. I was miserable at work. And then I came home, changed a poopy diaper, had a 20 minute conversation with Mason in "goooo"s and "abbahhhh"s, and felt completely normal again.

This is reality.