Introspection.

Last night at work, there was an 'incident'. At the time it was kind of terrifying . . . we were just sitting there taking calls, when the building was suddenly surrounded by police cars, vans, etc with their lights on. There were search lights, and the swat team running around the building with shotguns. It was unusual, and exciting, and caused a stir . . . but I wasn't feeling too alarmed. Then, there were people coming back from breaks visibly shaken - the police were in the lobbies, pulling guns on anyone coming in or out. This was disturbing. Then, the police were coming in and we weren't allowed to leave our floor or work areas, and then . . . then I started to freak out a little.

Thankfully, we live in modern times. I was able to text message Mr. Wonderful, who pulled up an online police scanner. He gave me updates via text as he heard them, and I was able to breath a little easier.

This morning, I read the police report. Someone called in stating that they had been threatened with a gun in the underground parking garage. When the police arrived (the main station is just across the street - it took no time at all) there was no sign of suspects or the person who had called.

I work for a communications giant taking calls in their customer care centre. This company isn't particularly well-liked, and of course as soon as there's a rumour of a gunman in the building, everyone goes bananas. Someone is here to kill us all! OMG, we're all gonna die!
Usually I can shrug it off, but then usually there's no massive police response lending credibility to the flailing of my fellow employees.
So, while I sat there (quietly) watching the police and their shotguns moving around my place of work, I found it impossible not to dwell on the end of my life. If I died unexpectedly - right now - what would I leave behind? And I realized that even if it happened, I think I'd leave good things behind. My children both have lots of things I've hand-made for them. I've had my moments of screaming and yelling, but we've also shared a lot of snuggles and made some really positive moments. My poor husband would have no idea what to do with all of my stuff, but it would be addressed in time, I'm sure.
Would my family know I love them? Yes. I don't think they'd doubt it for a minute. Sweet Pea might even remember me a little. My Boober boy wouldn't, and that makes me really sad . . . The only thing I think is lacking is photos. There are really not a lot of photos of me.
I think, as far as regrets go, not leaving behind a lot of photos is a minor one.

In the end, it's unimportant - the 'threat' was contained. I'm glad to know that the police take a call like this one so seriously. We were really in the safest place we could be -- behind locked doors, with armed police officers in every lobby and stairwell. It's unsettling to know that (apparently) someone made it into the building in the first place . . . but I'm not really surprised. The parking garage doors stay open for far too long after cars drive out. It wouldn't be hard to get in. Getting past the lobby should prove more difficult. No one made it to us or our floor -- although whether there was actually any threat from an armed individual remains to be seen.
It certainly created quite a stir -- and I was extra happy to have my knitting with me for distraction and productivity purposes.

So, I'm back to work.

Here in Canada, when you have a baby, you can take a year of parental leave. I found after having Sweet Pea that the year was great, but I just wasn't ready to be apart from her yet. I had a rough time acclimating to my work environment. But - it happened, and we all got used to it.
And then along came Boober. Boober had a rough start. It was a long time between his birth, and the point where I felt like I could really sit back and enjoy him. It had always been our intention that I would try for an additional year of leave, but I found that when December 2011 came I was so unwilling and not at all ready to return to work that I just don't know what I would have done if they had called me back right away.
But I was lucky. I got an additional year of unpaid leave. And so I didn't have to leave Boober until just a few days ago. At first when they called me back in, I pretty heart-broken. And then I felt unbelievably guilty about feeling heartbroken. I know there are parents all over the place who would give just about anything to have 2 repercussion-free years home with their little ones. But still, as hard I tried to just be grateful for the 25.5 months I spent home with my babies, I couldn't stop a few tears from springing to my eyes as I thought about their days with a babysitter. And then we made another decision -- that I would switch to part-time employment. I applied, my employer granted the application, and starting tomorrow I will be a part-time employee.
This means I'll be working some truly horrible shifts -- 4pm - midnight. But it also means that I get to be home. With my children. Still involved in their daily lives. And not paying a fortune in daycare. Which is great, because for the shift I worked on Thursday after all costs I went to work for a few dollars. And that just stings.

So yeah. I'm back to work. The return this time was just as anti-climactic as the last time. And now I need lots of crockpot dinner recipes for Mr. Wonderful . . . 3 nights a week he's on his own, and I want to make it easier on him!