(A few days ago): “You still can’t talk about TFAW without saying, ‘We,'” my husband said. “You need to get over it.”
(Last week): “Why don’t we let our guest, Elisabeth Allie, introduce herself?” “Hi there, I’m a former marketing manager for Things From Another World, now stay-at-home mom . . . ”
(My Twitter description): Comic lover. Former marketing chick for http://TFAW.com. A baby is my boss now.
It’s true. I quit officially quit my job in December to stay home with Sarah, but I’m still clinging to my old title like a security blanket–my identity. Who am I without a job? I’m afraid of the answer.
After all, I think–why would podcasts like Rachel and Miles X-Plain the X-Men or Ask Me About My Draculas ask me to be a guest, if not for my (now over) job? I still message a pal at work: Hey, so-and-so just announced a new book, this would be a great signing! I pull out my work history (history) as some sort of credentials whenever I meet someone new. It’s like I’m saying, I wasn’t always a housewife! People paid me to use my brains and (try to) make money.
Which is completely insulting to what I’m doing now: of course I have to use my brains to run our house and raise our children. And I’m “making” money by figuring out ways to trim our budget and use our funds wisely. So what am I so afraid of? Here’s a short list:
- I’m afraid of losing touch of what’s happening in the comics world. Not only do I love comics, but it’s my husband’s life, as well. But now, when I hear comics news, I feel like I’m on the outside with my nose pressed against the window.
- I’m afraid I won’t have anything interesting to talk about. I’m obsessed with zero waste and the 10-item wardrobe. I’m cooking and gardening. I’m fascinated with every developing detail of Sarah, and I can talk about Sid until the cows come home. But it’s hardly thrilling material to people who aren’t also parents or stay-at-home moms, and I dread seeing that slightly . . . glazed look on people’s faces, the moment I know I’m boring them silly.
- I’m afraid I’ll never go to San Diego Comic-Con again. I know I know, so many of you will say, “I wish I didn’t have to go!” You’re fucking liars. It’s the big show, the big game, and even the parts that really suck are better than staying at home and seeing announcements on Twitter. It sucks!
- I’m afraid that if I do go to SDCC again, it will be as . . . a wife. A nonentity. I was joking last night that if I went again, I would probably volunteer to man someone’s booth . . . and then I realized I wasn’t joking.
So who am I? How do I describe myself now? I don’t want to make up some cutesy, insufferable made-up title, and I don’t want to go back to work full time. I love being home with the kids, actually! But . . . I’m restless . . .