All in a Day's Work
"A stay-at-home mom has the hardest job." Yeah, that kind of statement has never really held much water for me. At least on the normal days. Obviously, I stand in full support of all of my peeps. . . those of us who hold down the fort at home or those at work, in times of Halloween parties and Picture Day, unexpected projectile vomit, stressful mornings, months of orthodontist appointments, and just the day-to-day business of being a mom.
But today was my very first day of trying to work at home. With no one in the house except me, I tried to calm my Inner Momness and be a writer. While I write all the time, it is often with my laptop propped on my knees, in bed, watching a TiVo of "Grey's Anatomy", or in the family room with Sunday afternoon football chaos (which I love) as background noise. Today I had a freelance assignment, one of my first few since putting it out there to the universe that I was available for putting the word to the page, and I really needed to write.
The kids were off to school, the kitchen table was cleared of Count Chocula and all school papers, and I prepare my space. Laptop, charger, legal pad, pens, notes, phone, cell phone. I got a drink and a cup of ice, so I could sit for a great length of time and not disturb myself. I consult my iHome for music to write by. I find myself temporarily sidetracked as I need to sing the entire version of David Archuleta's "Imagine" in my kitchen as loud as humanly possible. I was probably just clearing my head. And the need to sing the next two songs, which I performed Broadway style with some dance moves by the sink, simply replaced my morning stretch. Listen, if I'm going to work from home today, I need to prepare my space and my body. Certainly, people going into an actual office get themselves ready. Certainly.
I look down. I'm in my worst jeans, my gray PEACE shirt, and my fuzzy clogs. My hair is ugly and held back by one of Abby's sparkley barrettes. Perfect. Just "off" enough for the "she's a crazy writer" look I was going for. Okay, I wasn't really going for it, but by total accident and lack of clean laundry, I arrived at a style I will from this point forward call "pretend starving artist."
My look is in nice contrast to my recently redone kitchen, but that's really beside the point.
The music is too loud, and I can't write when there are lyrics. The words themselves aren't distracting me from my craft, but now I really want to sing again. I get up and switch to my "classical" playlist.
I sit down and page through my notes for this job. I jot a few things down, and open a new document to start the creative process.
I'm hungry.
In the kitchen cabinet right next to the stove, there is a half-pound bag of M&M's. I frequently mix them in with snack mixes for the kids' school snacks. (Note: Hoping to make your kids' "healthy snack" a little less healthy? Throw in a handful of M&M's.) In the family room, on the coffee table, there is a giant glass pumpkin full of candy corn. Sometimes I like to eat M&M's and candy corn together, in the same bite, so now I have a problem. It's not that I'm really supposed to be writing. It's that I don't know which candy to grab first.
Working from home is nothing like I thought it would be. I have heard tell of people being sidetracked by doing loads of laundry, taking phone calls, cleaning the house. I cannot even begin to tell you how very, very little these things are calling to me.
I really like my set up at the kitchen table.
It could use a candle. You know, for peace of mind, and good energy. I go to the dining room to find one, but all of the wax has melted over the wick of the McIntosh Apple candle that would have completed my new workspace. I find a substitute, Gardenia, (a little strong) but now I can't find matches. So I find a birthday candle in my kitchen junk drawer, light it on my gas stove burner, light my candle, bring it to my table, and sit back down. So much better.
I write the first paragraph of the assignment. This is going very well. It feels good to have people in the outside world, the world where I was not quite sure if I would measure up, send me notes and information and expect me to piece them all together and write something sensible. I owe it to them to work hard, and so I do. For a good, long, productive time. Until my e-mail inbox beeps. I click over. . . it could be more information for the article.
"Message from Facebook: Sarah has written on your Facebook page." I can look at that later. Well, I could just take a quick look in case she found our old friend Mindy from college or to see if she has posted something funny since I last looked. . . you know. . . this morning. Quick Facebook break. No different than a coffee break, really. Or a lunch break, which I am absolutely not going to take, thanks to the convenient M&M cabinet.
At the end of this workday, I do finish the whole assignment, and I even find time to glance out of the window a few times to enjoy the sunshine. (Okay, I went outside and sat on the deck and read a magazine, and I might have fallen asleep for just one minute, but it was 70 degrees and I was tired!) The point is this. I found myself exceedingly refreshed, and refreshingly grateful, for both the work and the space. For the gift of being able to stay in this place that I love while I do what I love. And for the freedom to sing in my kitchen, have a healthy snack break, and take a little nap along the way? Now, THAT is all in a day's work.
But today was my very first day of trying to work at home. With no one in the house except me, I tried to calm my Inner Momness and be a writer. While I write all the time, it is often with my laptop propped on my knees, in bed, watching a TiVo of "Grey's Anatomy", or in the family room with Sunday afternoon football chaos (which I love) as background noise. Today I had a freelance assignment, one of my first few since putting it out there to the universe that I was available for putting the word to the page, and I really needed to write.
The kids were off to school, the kitchen table was cleared of Count Chocula and all school papers, and I prepare my space. Laptop, charger, legal pad, pens, notes, phone, cell phone. I got a drink and a cup of ice, so I could sit for a great length of time and not disturb myself. I consult my iHome for music to write by. I find myself temporarily sidetracked as I need to sing the entire version of David Archuleta's "Imagine" in my kitchen as loud as humanly possible. I was probably just clearing my head. And the need to sing the next two songs, which I performed Broadway style with some dance moves by the sink, simply replaced my morning stretch. Listen, if I'm going to work from home today, I need to prepare my space and my body. Certainly, people going into an actual office get themselves ready. Certainly.
I look down. I'm in my worst jeans, my gray PEACE shirt, and my fuzzy clogs. My hair is ugly and held back by one of Abby's sparkley barrettes. Perfect. Just "off" enough for the "she's a crazy writer" look I was going for. Okay, I wasn't really going for it, but by total accident and lack of clean laundry, I arrived at a style I will from this point forward call "pretend starving artist."
My look is in nice contrast to my recently redone kitchen, but that's really beside the point.
The music is too loud, and I can't write when there are lyrics. The words themselves aren't distracting me from my craft, but now I really want to sing again. I get up and switch to my "classical" playlist.
I sit down and page through my notes for this job. I jot a few things down, and open a new document to start the creative process.
I'm hungry.
In the kitchen cabinet right next to the stove, there is a half-pound bag of M&M's. I frequently mix them in with snack mixes for the kids' school snacks. (Note: Hoping to make your kids' "healthy snack" a little less healthy? Throw in a handful of M&M's.) In the family room, on the coffee table, there is a giant glass pumpkin full of candy corn. Sometimes I like to eat M&M's and candy corn together, in the same bite, so now I have a problem. It's not that I'm really supposed to be writing. It's that I don't know which candy to grab first.
Working from home is nothing like I thought it would be. I have heard tell of people being sidetracked by doing loads of laundry, taking phone calls, cleaning the house. I cannot even begin to tell you how very, very little these things are calling to me.
I really like my set up at the kitchen table.
It could use a candle. You know, for peace of mind, and good energy. I go to the dining room to find one, but all of the wax has melted over the wick of the McIntosh Apple candle that would have completed my new workspace. I find a substitute, Gardenia, (a little strong) but now I can't find matches. So I find a birthday candle in my kitchen junk drawer, light it on my gas stove burner, light my candle, bring it to my table, and sit back down. So much better.
I write the first paragraph of the assignment. This is going very well. It feels good to have people in the outside world, the world where I was not quite sure if I would measure up, send me notes and information and expect me to piece them all together and write something sensible. I owe it to them to work hard, and so I do. For a good, long, productive time. Until my e-mail inbox beeps. I click over. . . it could be more information for the article.
"Message from Facebook: Sarah has written on your Facebook page." I can look at that later. Well, I could just take a quick look in case she found our old friend Mindy from college or to see if she has posted something funny since I last looked. . . you know. . . this morning. Quick Facebook break. No different than a coffee break, really. Or a lunch break, which I am absolutely not going to take, thanks to the convenient M&M cabinet.
At the end of this workday, I do finish the whole assignment, and I even find time to glance out of the window a few times to enjoy the sunshine. (Okay, I went outside and sat on the deck and read a magazine, and I might have fallen asleep for just one minute, but it was 70 degrees and I was tired!) The point is this. I found myself exceedingly refreshed, and refreshingly grateful, for both the work and the space. For the gift of being able to stay in this place that I love while I do what I love. And for the freedom to sing in my kitchen, have a healthy snack break, and take a little nap along the way? Now, THAT is all in a day's work.
I'm so proud of you and your new freelance job!! Congrats...what a great thing to have something that you are so good and talented at be called "work"!!
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