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Monday, April 6, 2015

And We're Back!!


The last time I wrote a blog entry was roughly five months ago. Coincidentally, that’s pretty much the exact last time I worked for “the man.” You know, the last time I had a desk job. I still work these days. Just for myself and not so much at a desk. And I’m still part Haitian or teenager as I have many part-time jobs that pay terribly (chauffeur, stylist, tutor, chef).


These last five months have been absolutely Heavenly. I’ve loved the freedom of working from home, spending more time with my family, being present for things like homework, being at school with the “A-list moms,” and having more time to be told by my child how I’ve ruined her day/life. What took me 100%, completely by surprise was the fact that I would have less hours in a given day than when I was chained to a desk. Take this blog as “exhibit A.” I wrote it daily when I worked a 40-hour, 8-5 job. Now that I work a 102-hour, 6-‘til job, I don’t have time for such luxuries as writing a blog no one reads or drinking a cup of coffee while it’s still hot.

I used to see these adorable, tennis-skirt-wearing Moms bopping around school, wearing their lipstick and whining about how they had to cut their barre class short today and were running late because the landscaper didn’t trim the shrubs like the right Disney characters and I (maybe-not-so-) discreetly rolled my eyes and thought to myself, “you should walk a mile in my ridiculously uncomfortable pumps.” I envied them. I wanted to sit on the couch in the mornings and sip coffee, watch morning shows, talk to the neighbor over the clothesline...wait, I may have fallen asleep watching The Waltons again last night. Anyway, I always pictured stay-at-home Moms as having an endless amount of free time and just cavalierly skipping through their days with unabashed freedom between the hours of 7:35 a.m. and 2:50 p.m. 

Now I know the truth. I know that those seven hours and 15 minutes FLY by like a new box of Girl Scout cookies. I feel like I drop off at school, have 15-20 minutes, then I’m right back there for pick up. When we get home, we have a snack, knock out homework, play, I feed everyone who comes up to me and looks hungry, we walk dogs, I run my back room Chinese laundry, clean the kitchen for the third time, and collapse in front of the TV approximately 20-40 minutes after I’ve gotten Little Bit to bed. This is my dream and I’m living it.

It sounds like I’m being sarcastic there, but I’m actually not. It is a dream and one for which I longed for a long time. I guess my point is “we’re all in this together.” That and I now know the grass isn’t necessarily greener on the other side. It’s actually not grass. I got over there and it’s astroturf. Yes, it has it has it’s own quirks and eccentricities, but there are equally awesome benefits. So, as with life, enjoy the good parts, be appreciative and thankful for the things that go well, and stash all of the others parts in the kitchen drawer. You know the one.



Author’s Footnote:  For this foray back into blogging, this one entry took two hours. Not consecutive, balls-to-the-wall writing, but still two hours. I got up approximately 17 times while trying to knock out a few paragraphs. “Have you started dinner?” was asked as soon as I sat down. Three more sentences and the oven beeped. A paragraph later, I wondered why the dogs were looking at me and then noticed their empty bowls. Mid-sentence, they let me know they needed to go potty. The dryer buzzed and I thought I'd try something new and get the clothes out after just one cycle and before they wrinkled. I reminded Little Bit she needed to write in her “Student of the Week” journal, which is presented as some achievement, but is actually “Mommy Homework.” Then I had to spell/confirm spelling for seven different words and remember every meal we ate since Thursday night. I felt noble and righteous as I chastised, “remember when I said, ‘you should write in that thing as you go along so we don’t have to play the “what did I eat nine meals ago?” game?’” but then, as almost always happen, I felt like a giant turd so I hopped in the WABAC and remembered, “oh, we went to Chick-Fil-A.” Now, all I can think about is lemonade. 

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