Day 26: What I Did on My Month-Long Sabbatical

One of the perks of my last job was that being a huge data conglomerate, they were constantly looking for ways to keep up with the Joneses of cool tech companies.

First, the rolled out unlimited PTO.

That's right, no limit on vacation days. (Which is awesome in theory, but impossible to manage).

Then, they unveiled The Sabbatical.

If you had been at the company for 10 years, you could apply for a month-long sabbatical for personal enrichment. 

A month off? Paid? No strings attached? Where do I sign up?

Well, I DID sign up. And in May of this past year, I took a full month off from work.

And it was awesome.

Me and Little Mister, on my last day of my sabbatical, kissing freedom good-bye.
Man, we had fun together.

(Not pictured: Me, later that night, depressed as all get out)

The last time I had 30 straight days of not working was when I was on maternity leave, and I had a human being strapped to me for the better part of each day, so that didn't count.

To answer the question 'what do you plan to do on your sabbatical' on my application, I had written "Begin writing my novel". And because I hold myself to high standards that when I say I'm going to do something I do it (I'm looking at you, NaBloPoMo), I kept my word.

Here's what this Type A, always-on-email, can't-sit-still girl did with a month off:

• I started my novel. That part was true. I told myself I would write for at least an hour each day; some days, I wrote for 3 hours straight. I wrote about my childhood, my grandparents, me and Mr. KK. I got to around 30,000 words. And believe me, I have more to say.

Me, practicing "happy writing hour" at our neighborhood beer bar.

• I spent time with our Little Mister. He still went to daycare 3 days a week, but the other 2 days we played, went shopping, went to the park. We were deep in our Nemo phase, so I took him to Boston to see his godmother and we went to the aquarium. He would have moved into the touch tank with the sting rays if I let him.

We chased bubbles!

• Unbeknownst to me at the time, I got to spend lots of quality time with Vito, who we would lose two months later. My writing buddy would lie on my legs or lap when I was on the couch typing. I totally crashed his 21-hour-a-day nap lifestyle.

• I shopped. And shopped. 3-hour trips to Homegoods. A full morning wandering aimlessly in Target. 

Fun at Mommy's Happy Place.

• I cooked. I tried new recipes, and resurrected some old favorites. For that month, we got a taste of what it was like to eat dinner as a family. Little did I know it was foreshadowing to present day, when I'm working for home and we eat together every night.
• I hung out at night with Mr. KK. Because I was able to get everything done during the day, we didn't have to spend our nights folding laundry, packing lunches, running to the store.
• I exercised. Sometimes.
• I hung out with my father-in-law. He made his daily pilgrimage to our house, prepping the yard for the garden and even starting the planting. We'd walk the yard and discuss plans.

Garden supervision.

(NOTE: adult beverage in that cup for our daily afternoon walk)

• Sh*t got done. Oil changes. Items that had been in my car for a month got returned to stores. The linen closet – which was supposed to be organized while I was on maternity leave – was finally cleaned out and restocked. 
• I enjoyed amazing beer. In the afternoon.
• I was happier. Without the stress of working and commuting, I felt lighter and more present.

In fact, I was so busy each day, I couldn't help but wonder: "How did I ever work? When did everything get done?"

But, like everything else, you figure it out.

I went back to work refreshed (which lasted all of 5 minutes), and thoroughly depressed (which lasted much longer). My month of fun was over. When asked if I finished my novel, I could proudly say that while I didn't finish it, I made a good dent.

I spent time with Little Mister, doing a ton of stuff and doing nothing. But I got to be "Mom" 24/7, no distractions.

And I'd do it again in a heartbeat.