Thursday, October 23, 2014

The other side of this life

I have a deep, dark secret: I viscerally hate being a work-at-home-mom.   I don't know if it's the acronym #WAHM or if it's that I now need a modifier to explain what I do every day.

True, when I worked out of the house -- I still explained what I did, sort-of.  First, I was a soldier -- but that was a given, I had to wear a uniform so there was an obvious acknowledgement there.


Then, I was a college student -- working work-study positions to get a little extra money while hubby wore the uniform.  Not as obvious -- but still easily explained when dropping the kids off at day-care.

Then I worked for the government -- and while you couldn't tell "where" I worked by looking at me as a GS civilian-- but, I obviously worked outside the home.

During those times there was the issue with the day care on post needing proof that I and my husband had to work on certain training holidays -- certain holidays or what-not.  We had to provide proof to get them into care those days, and it was tedious.  We couldn't just use the day care for a 'training holiday' (which we paid for anyhow) to get a breather.  We couldn't go grocery shopping without them, we couldn't clean house while they were at school: there were rules.

When the hubby was deployed, less questions were asked.  Less questions came up when the kids were in school too.

Now, the kids are older and I work-at-home but I just feel like there is no time for me.  And, sometimes I feel very selfish when I need that time.  Because, put quite simply: there is this notion that since I work-from-home and my kids are in school for 6.5-7 hours a day that that time is mine.

It's just not.

I have a load of laundry in the washer and dryer (it's about 8:45 am) -- I've washed a load of dishes my daughter promised to wash last night.  I've prepared the package that was purchased sometime in the middle of the night.  I've sent all three kids off to school and put gas in my husbands car. I've talked to my mom for our morning b*tch session.  I have removed kittens endlessly from my dining table.  I've made mental lists of what I have to get accomplished and when today (must prepare my topaz for November birthstones). 

The list goes on and on -- and were I working outside the home, I would have turned on my computer, read a few emails and gotten some coffee.  I would be preparing for the day -- and only a few moments into it.  The laundry would have been there when I got home tonight, or maybe I would have washed a load to move-along tonight.

I would have asked co-workers how they are doing -- what is going on with them.  I would have had outside conversations with actual adults.  I would probably be stressing about the portion of my thesis due last week -- but would mentally note to myself to work at my desk for lunch.

I would already be dreaming of the fabulous lunch I made for myself, instead of thinking openly: "well, at least I already put on pants."

And, I would dream of having that 6.5-7 hours to myself.  In a cabin.  In the woods somewhere.  With a coffee pot and a warm, comfy blanket until the kids got home.

A shed conversion I am drooling over for my hideaway.

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