The first change

Tomorrow's a big day.
I start a new, part-time job.
I'll be doing social media and office work for a locally beloved bakery. It's a place I've always loved and the job happened to fall on the days I was already off from the newspaper.

I'm excited to start my first "first day of work" since 1997, and in an entirely new field (especially after my restaurant writer friend told me that "food is the new Rock 'N' Roll.") I'll have my own desk in a room with three other super nice women and I get a free loaf of bread after each shift.

But it also means my schedule is changing. My kids are going to have to go to after-care for the first time in their lives. I also hired a nanny for those early dismissal days.

I know it will be fine. I'm just feeling guilty. And scared. And excited. All wrapped into a nervous pit in my stomach, a feeling that's been so very familiar in the last few months.

Also? I'm kind of worried for my waistline: my first day will be spent at the cafe tasting bread.