Daily Archives: September 15, 2011


I am always so tired at the end of the night, which is when I end up writing most of these posts.

I work online–and I’m now at 3/4 time, so I’m online for at least 30 hours a week. Working from home may seem so lovely, but it’s not the glamorous life you all dream of. Yes, I may work in my pajamas (read: unshowered), and yes, I am home with my son, but I don’t get to work while he’s awake or otherwise unoccupied. He slams my computer shut if it’s open for more than a couple of minutes when he is around. So I work when my wife comes home, but that’s not easy either. BG barges into my office, wanting hugs or snuggles or a book. He demands that I stop working (“Mommy, all done working!” “Mommy, outside!” “Mommy, make BG muffins!”). The work I do is fairly cerebral. But there really is no focusing with a two-year-old in the house. And there is no focusing after wrangling a two-year-old from 5am on with no nap. I’m a tired mom, and more than once a week, I find myself working insanely late hours, falling asleep while typing. I have been known to start dreaming and typing what I’m dreaming. It’s creepy.

We’re going to start a new routine next week where I leave the house to work from a coffee shop or something a few times a week. To be determined: whether the distractions of a coffee house are greater than that of a two-year-old banging on my locked office door shouting, “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” At least I’ll be more inclined to finish a cup of coffee than I am at home. I don’t remember the last time I actually saw the bottom of a coffee mug before abandoning it to read I Wish That I Had Duck Feet or to change a diaper.

I guess when it comes down to it, I sometimes kind of miss being a woman who gets ready for work and leaves the house and sees real people who are older than three. I might even miss the feeling of coming home and kicking off my uncomfortable work shoes and releaving my back of the weight of my teaching bag. I love being at home with my son, but as introverted as I can be, I guess I’ve learned that even I need to be out in the world occasionally doing things that resemble important activities.

But ask me again in a week how I feel about this whole work-at-home-mom thing, and I may be in total WAHM bliss. Isn’t that the nature of these things? Isn’t the grass always greener on the other side of the two-hour-commute?

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