Katrina Carefoot, Mabel BlogHer correspondent, from Fickle Feline, is guest blogging for the next two weeks while Julie recovers from the birth of her 6th baby - welcome Finian Aloysius!

Blink. Is it over already?

After spending the past year on maternity leave with baby #2, I'm heading back to the corporate world tomorrow and shedding the mommy uniform (at least between the hours of 9 and 5). To be honest, I haven't let myself think too much about the fact that I'm going back to the working mom role. Up until this past week I was operating business as usual, my days were filled with taking care of my baby girl, shuttling my Autistic son, Max, to therapy, doctor's appointments, and assessments, and trying to keep our household running as smoothly as possible. So, as usual, the dishes were overflowing from the sink, we were all out of clean socks and underwear, and emergency calls were being placed to my husband for him to pick up milk on the way home.

I've put a lot of preparation into going back to work, just not in the way I did when I went back to work after having my first baby. The focal point this time around was trying to figure out how we would juggle all of Max's therapy --specifically the to-ing and fro-ing. We are very fortunate to have support from my husband's parents, who will be picking the kids up from daycare every day. They will also be helping us get Max to his therapy appointments twice a week. I have been training one of our friends to take Max to therapy once a week as well. My daughter, Cameron, has been easing into daycare for the past 3 weeks. The first week was rough, but it has been progressively easier each week. I'm hoping we can all keep the tears to a minimum on my first day back at work, lest my mascara end up running down my cheeks.

Getting everyone else organized is one thing, but I've been trying to figure out how to get myself back into the "professional woman" head space. When I look in the mirror, I don't see a Marketing Manager, I see a worn-out mommy, and that just won't do. How do I update my exterior in hopes that my interior will start believing the hype? I started with a trip to the salon to get my hair done. Instead of doing the usual highlights, I opted for some lowlights to break the colour up. I also got more layers cut in so I'll have something to work with when I'm styling my hair. Note - I used the term "styling" loosely. Usually this involves flipping my head upside down for a quick blow dry and then speedy work with my flat iron and a spritz of hair spray.

My hair was only the tip of the iceberg. My hands and feet were in rough shape, begging for a mani and pedi. My eyebrows were far from kempt and my skin was looking dull and uninspired. Feeling like I not only deserved some time at the spa, but my career clearly depended on it, I booked myself in for a two-and-a-half hour appointment with my trusted aesthetician, Emily. She worked her magic and after a morning with Emily, I left feeling shiny and new. I may in fact have proposed to Emily during my facial -- she has the magic touch.

Hair? Check. Face, eyebrows, hands, feet? Check x 4. Undergarments? FAIL. I haven't worn a real bra in almost 2 years. Once I got pregnant with baby #2, I immediately ditched my underwire bras for soft cotton nursing bras that make me look like I have uni-boob (comfort is king when you are preggers, perky boobs be damned). My underwear drawer was in an even sadder state. Worn out and faded jockeys that do nothing for my figure, let alone my self-esteem, and they show off ugly underwear lines (because, you know, I'd HATE for anyone to be thinking I actually wear underwear). I trekked out to The Bay today to buy some new bras and panties - the kind that match and make you strut and feel like a million bucks even if all you are wearing on top of them are a white blouse and black skirt. I hate to admit it, but I had no idea what bra size I wore. I wrestled with the measuring tape for about a minute, and then threw it in the corner, opting instead to bring a range of sizes (practically everything from 32AA to 40DD) into the fitting room so I could figure out my bra size by trial-and-error.

After trying on a million bras, I finally settled on a white bra, a black bra, and a hot lacy number with a matching thong (it was on sale and it's nice eye candy for hubby). I also bought the dreaded pantyhose -- is there any escaping them? Now that I know I'll be well-groomed and have new undergarments on, I think my first day back at work will be manageable. I may not feel like a deal-making, moving-and-shaking, no-B.S.-taking professional woman, but I'll look the part. Deep breath in, deep breath out... Wish me luck!