Disclaimer: there is a full-on whine below. If you can't stand that sort of thing, I recommend you just skip this post entirely.
Traveling is one of the things my husband and I really enjoy and our family recently returned from a nine day trip away. It was heavenly. As has been the case lately, with my daughter getting older, the trips just keep getting better. She is a champion car traveler (sometimes more patient than me) and a real treat as she embraces all our outings when away. As mundane as running to the grocery store ("There's Harris Teeter!!") or seeing the sights (this trip it was a replica of a 16th century sailing vessel which she deemed "just like on 'Arial'!"), she enjoys it all.
As is the case with most business owners, especially those working from home, the lines often blur between personal and professional time. I've written plenty of other posts about the overlaps in my life. I tried something new this trip and attempted to clear the work responsibility decks in hopes I wouldn't have a load of commitments while away. It worked! I was able to blissfully disengage from my working world, answering a minimal number of emails and spending very little time attached to my computer for the week. It really made for a relaxing getaway.
What I didn't factor in was my transition back to real life upon our return. Oy! Those first two days of assimilation were insane! On our last travel day, I checked my email at 8 a.m. No problems. When we got home at 4 p.m. that afternoon, 63 emails in my inbox. 63! Suddenly everything seems urgent. ugh. Gone are my feelings of Zen. And let's talk about the laundry. Piled to the rafters. And the cat fur balls tripping around the floor like little hamsters. Nothing in the fridge. Dirty bathrooms. Zen? Did I really feel Zen four short days ago? So now I need a vacation from the transition back from my vacation. sigh.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Squandered?
I was working at a coffee shop the other day, preparing for a next meeting, and two women came in with their young children. They looked like this was the very purposeful outing of the day, a time to get together with a friend and to get the kid out of the house. The two kids were young enough that they were just learning to navigate the whole self-feeding world, purposely putting hand-to-mouth, and hoping to catch some food in the process. Very adorable.
I had a momentary pang- did I miss the boat? Did I squander my stay-at-home days with my daughter? Did I forsake that kind of organic flow of the day for meetings, preschool, and other commitments? Have a I rushed too quickly back to the working world?
Oh, but then I remember: I had those days. I wasn't very happy. It was a little bit maddening and I felt like I was constantly searching for my higher purpose (I couldn't quite ever settle into the thought- and this is strictly for myself and not others- that the only thing I was supposed to be doing was raising my daughter, as important as it was... and still is; it's my own hang-up). And I also now remember: I still have those days. At least two days a week I am free to meet friends for lunch. And I don't have to change out of stretchy pants if I don't want to. We can change princess clothes as often as needed. And I am sole controller of our "flow" those days.
I am excessively grateful that I have had the choice, to work or stay home with my daughter. I know too many who don't have the choice and fully realize the challenge of that. I am also excessively grateful that, on most days, I have this incredible balance that feeds all parts of me.
But I just wonder some days, what would it be like to be with my daughter everyday, all day?
I had a momentary pang- did I miss the boat? Did I squander my stay-at-home days with my daughter? Did I forsake that kind of organic flow of the day for meetings, preschool, and other commitments? Have a I rushed too quickly back to the working world?
Oh, but then I remember: I had those days. I wasn't very happy. It was a little bit maddening and I felt like I was constantly searching for my higher purpose (I couldn't quite ever settle into the thought- and this is strictly for myself and not others- that the only thing I was supposed to be doing was raising my daughter, as important as it was... and still is; it's my own hang-up). And I also now remember: I still have those days. At least two days a week I am free to meet friends for lunch. And I don't have to change out of stretchy pants if I don't want to. We can change princess clothes as often as needed. And I am sole controller of our "flow" those days.
I am excessively grateful that I have had the choice, to work or stay home with my daughter. I know too many who don't have the choice and fully realize the challenge of that. I am also excessively grateful that, on most days, I have this incredible balance that feeds all parts of me.
But I just wonder some days, what would it be like to be with my daughter everyday, all day?
Friday, March 6, 2009
Just A Minute
"Just a minute" is a phrase that runs rampant through my life... and causes me no end of grief. There was a time when it used to be an innocuous placeholder- "Just a minute and I can answer your question, give you my thoughts on that, address the next issue, etc."- but now it is an encumbered phrase in my life. The first layer it carries has to do with working at home and time spent with my daughter. "Just a minute" is most often uttered when I am trying to answer a client email or some other computer-related task and pay simultaneous attention to my daughter. As in, "Just a minute, honey. Mommy needs to answer this one last email before we..." I suppose it is the equal peril of the work I do and trying to fit too much into too little time (more on that later). In that particular circumstance, the uttered phrase is followed by stabs of guilt coursing through my body, wishing I didn't have to put off my daughter a minute longer. Can I appease myself by saying it is a beneficial lesson in patience for her? She seems no worse for wear... The second layer it carries is annoyance. I am a person that prefers to execute tasks in a sequential manner. I think better- more clearly- when an issue or project is addressed in its discrete parts, from beginning to end. The constant interruptions do nothing for my productivity and feelings of satisfaction. There was a recent study that reflected that people do have less concentration and perform less well when multitasking. It does nothing to solve my current problems of having to split my day into slivers of work and home life. But it does validate my feelings on a certain level.
The last layer is the feeling of resignation. One of the phrases that has served me well as I navigate the waters of parenthood is, "It is what it is." And that most appropriately applies to this situation. Working part-time and out of my home some days allows me to be with my daughter. Having time with my daughter means that I will often be completing tasks in interrupted increments. It is what it is. There is also another kind of "just a minute," often uttered while talking to a friend on the phone, when my daughter has asked me a question or requires me to address a need. As in, "just a minute, I need to assist with the potty, help with a princess dress change, switch a DVD, etc..." Again, I feel guilty that I cannot provide my undivided attention. I like to be the friend who can listen, reflect, respond. But some days you're lucky to just get me on the phone. Period. And luckily, I have wonderful friends, most of whom (all of whom?) understand this circumstance. Every so often the irony hits me: professionally, I often counsel clients on issues of time management and life balance. But, like the shoemaker whose children have no new shoes, my own life balance occasionally suffers. I know that this is a time-limited circumstance. In a few short years I will be lamenting these days of unstructured time spent with my daughter. Until then, "just a minute" will serve me well.
The last layer is the feeling of resignation. One of the phrases that has served me well as I navigate the waters of parenthood is, "It is what it is." And that most appropriately applies to this situation. Working part-time and out of my home some days allows me to be with my daughter. Having time with my daughter means that I will often be completing tasks in interrupted increments. It is what it is. There is also another kind of "just a minute," often uttered while talking to a friend on the phone, when my daughter has asked me a question or requires me to address a need. As in, "just a minute, I need to assist with the potty, help with a princess dress change, switch a DVD, etc..." Again, I feel guilty that I cannot provide my undivided attention. I like to be the friend who can listen, reflect, respond. But some days you're lucky to just get me on the phone. Period. And luckily, I have wonderful friends, most of whom (all of whom?) understand this circumstance. Every so often the irony hits me: professionally, I often counsel clients on issues of time management and life balance. But, like the shoemaker whose children have no new shoes, my own life balance occasionally suffers. I know that this is a time-limited circumstance. In a few short years I will be lamenting these days of unstructured time spent with my daughter. Until then, "just a minute" will serve me well.
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