I'm approaching back to work with a bit of ambivalence, I must admit. There's a big part of me that can't stand the thought of it, mostly because I can picture in my head my daughter crying and reaching for me at daycare and the thought makes my stomach heave.

But there's part of me who wants to go.

I didn't realize this until last night. I was lying in bed wondering to myself why I was angry, why I was annoyed with things so much and the answer is this: I'm really bored.

I hasten to assure you I am not bored with my children. I am bored as SH*T by the cleaning -- dishes, laundry, tidying -- that I have to do every single day.

I can imagine that if all I had to do all day was lie on the floor with my kids while my five year old told me amusing stories about the "game" we were playing and the baby crawled all over me and showed me her latest delighted find my shoving things in my face, then I might be a bit more keen.

But these children do need to be clothed and fed, and while I might be ok with them wearing slightly stained clothing, I know that it's easier to make even slightly decent meals in a clean kitchen. And let's not even go into the hygiene aspect of a dirty kitchen.

So I do it every day. The dishwasher, loads of dishes, cleaning the counters, sweeping the floor. I tidy toys, and I do laundry, washing, drying, and putting away.

And no one ever sees. I'm like a house elf. My kid puts his underwear in the hamper at night, and a day or so later they end up in his drawer again all clean. Oh, yeah, much of the time he helps putting them away. Still.

And what of hobbies? Well, as I've written before, I can't sit down for a moment without being the kid-magnet, I can't write or read or watch a show or knit without being descended upon within five minutes. That's not enough for more than a page or two of a book or a row of knitting.

Lest you think I'm complaining, I'm not. I am SO lucky to have two kids to take care of and a husband who loves me. I'm so lucky to have a home. I am so lucky to have a whole year off to be with my baby and my son.

But I'm comparing life at home with life at work, where I get to sit alone and drink coffee unimpeded, where I get to sit and concentrate on something important to me for often hours at a time. Where people see and hear me and say thank you. Where I can take breaks and read a book at lunch or go for a walk at the pace I want to walk.

So I'm not looking forward to it. I'm not. But I'm acknowledging that there will be some really, really great things about it.