Working Mom (Who Stays at Home)
Every morning, I kiss my kids and my husband and say “I’ve got to go to work, see you at 12!” Then I stumble down the hallway in my pajamas to my office where I bang away at the keyboard for several hours.
I’m blessed. I’m a freelance writer and I get to work from home. I thought it would be less stressful, but not really. If I worked outside the home I would be far less tempted to stop what I’m doing and run to give someone zerberts on their tummy. If I worked outside the home I’d be able to concentrate on work and not focus on how much I hate Barney – who is singing non-stop downstairs.
But, I remind myself, if I wasn’t here I couldn’t take a lunch break and get my daughter ready for afternoon preschool, ensuring she doesn’t look a hot mess like she would if her dad had dressed her and combed her hair. He’s a wonderful father and husband, but he can’t braid worth a darn.
I wouldn’t be able to rearrange my schedule so the girls could go to playgroups with my moms group. I couldn’t volunteer at Liv’s school during the day and there would certainly be no stolen moments of mid-morning patty cake with Bri. If I wasn’t here, I wouldn’t be able to hear them playing, laughing and living throughout the day. That’s way better than listening to muzak float from the elevator into your office!