Why does this bother me?

This is going to sound really awful, but I’m jealous of my husband.  Or at least I think I am.  I’m not sure, exactly.  Oh…I don’t know what I want sometimes…

Maybe other working-moms-turned-stay-at-home-moms-turned-working-moms can relate to this.  I walk into work some days and disappear into my miniscule dark little cubicle with the fabric walls and the tiny little modular desk and as I go to get my morning tea, I walk by all of the offices along the windows.  Not cubicles…offices with actual doors and real wooden desks.

By the way…for those who don’t know (Steve S.)…proper cubicle etiquette says that if you walk up to someone’s tiny little cube and want that person’s attention, you should either knock on the side supports (again…no actual doors on a cubicle) or clear your throat or jingle the change in your pocket…something to let the person know that you are there instead of scaring them nearly to death by silently looming over their shoulder (for God knows how long) and then making a loud noise.  Just thought I’d mention.

Anyway…so as I walk by the real offices with the managers inside, I wonder where I’d be in my career if I hadn’t taken the seven years off to stay home with my kids.  Not that I regret staying home with my kids in any way, shape or form – I’ll never get those years back and I am SO glad that I was here to witness their first steps and first words and to be their whole world if only for a short time.  But as I schlep to my tiny fabric box-of-an-office, I sometimes feel a little tiny pang of jealousy.  Just a little.

So now Mike is being considered for what would be a rather large promotion (by the way, he already has an office with a real door with a handle and everything).  I’m so proud of him – he is one of the smartest people I know and he really deserves this – he’s perfect for the job. 

So why can’t I shake this tiny voice inside of me that says, “It could have been you.” 

Is that what I really want, anyway?  I love working part time – I enjoy the time I have at home with my kids, working on my crafts…so why does this bother me?  What do I want to be when I grow up?  Is it too late for me to have a real career?  Would I want one, anyway?

And how do you hang things on those stupid fabric cubicle walls?!?!