I’m a working-at-home mom. This means that I deal with all of the BS of work, but in my house. I went to talk to the first graders last week about my job (I had to follow up an FBI agent, so I brought pictures of meetings I’d run, and if the kids HAPPEN to have the mistaken impression I train dolphins at the Atlantis, well so be it). The first graders and I discussed the pros and cons of being a working at home mom. Pro: you get to take naps. I mean, in theory? I haven’t yet, but I could. I did, actually, once take a nap at a ”real job” but that’s a WHOLE other story. Pro: you get to see your kids. Yes, and it’s awesome, awesome, awesome, I pointed out, when my kids get to see ME and when they WANT to, MUST see me but I’m on a conference call so I have locked myself in my closet. Behind my locked bedroom door. So what COULD be a Pro is sort of a Con.
But as you fellow working-from-home (even sometimes) moms know it’s all, as is life, a series of pros and cons. Even the Democrats now admit, at least when they’re forced to, that being “just a mom” must surely entail some work. My children, neither of whom knew what I did when I came to talk to their class (and who are PRETTY sure but not entirely sure I’m not a dolphin trainer, due to lack of dolphins) think my job is “cleaning up after us”. That’s a con of working from home because there’s always, always disaster around and afoot, especially with one of my other “jobs” being so poorly executed. That’s taking care of the baby who thinks its HER job to unload the DVD cabinet every. single. day. And also the bathroom cabinet and the travel supplies and anything that’s messy, soapy, or can be broken. She is as good at her job as I am bad at providing supervision, even though I’ve removed everything dangerous she could get at. Helpfully, she found all the dangerous things and walked around with them so I knew what to remove.
Another CON is that I have time to parent pick up my kids when I’m feeling generous and this brings me to the newest CON and newest item of longing and jealousy. Perhaps you remember my streak of driving by New Jersey office parks and gazing longingly at the fun that was being had inside. I’m over that. Now: I drive by any construction project, small or large. Residential or commercial. Active or at a pause. And I covet the machinery.
For as mentioned previously we are engaged in a move wherein all my possessions are going to Westy self storage and my children, sans toys, and I are spending the summer as nomads either in or out of a winnebago.
If the 8 year old thought the Winnebago was embarrassing...
This is because my husband insisted we needed a bigger house. This, in turn, was driven by the fact that we have 4 daughters and they shared one bathroom.
Now that is the FACT on paper. In actuality, the NEED for a bigger house and bathrooms isn’t exactly immediate. The littlest one has a porta-potty strapped to her cute little tush 24-7, i.e. a diaper. The other 3 arguably could use more bathroom space if they ever made it a practice to be clean. But though they insist on dressing to the nines, they react to “It’s time for a shower” as if the next line is, inevitably, “in boiling acid”. I was so good, so good at bathing every day with the one. Then with the twins, it was every other day. I am ashamed to tell you the schedule now but let’s say that in terms of bathing my children, my grade is significantly lower than what I’d get for “supervising the baby”. Who at present, as I write, is unloading a DVD cabinet (I assume, I haven’t heard from her for a few minutes).
So the need wasn’t immediate but nevertheless we jumped in to the excitement of building a new house (having been told by everyone what a nightmare it is) and in October, as we signed papers, we were told we’d be in good shape timing wise IF we had an ok winter. That was the day it snowed so we were like MAN, we’re in trouble! Snow in October!
That is the only snow we’ve had. It was a winter so warm that I practically got sunburned waiting at the bus in December and the Jesus in the creche had to wear sunglasses. And yet. I drive by the site every day, or every day that I feel like picking up my kids, to see a hole. Nothing else. And I ask the builder (who someone, I won’t say who, told me was a person who’s pants were on fire, a pathological person with pants on fire, if you catch my drift) “Hey! When’s my house happening?” and he inevitably says he’s just waiting on a machine. One day I saw the machine and I was HAPPY!! And the next day it was gone.
So now. I stare at machines and seriously, through my head, goes the thoughts that “I could BORROW that machine and drive it over and dig the hole bigger and BAM! My house is on track”. I get so envious of other people who have working machines. I look at the machines that are sitting idle and think Gosh, I could just put that to work in my big hole and BAM! One day! I’ll be so happy. But of course I have no skill for driving those machines and also I think I’m supposed to be supervising the baby.
So: Con o’ the week. When you’re a working at home mom you’re always wanting something more and this week it’s an earth mover. Because seriously. This is going to be me in September. Except with 4 kids.
