Friday, May 21, 2010

a confession

It’s official.

I’m a better mom now that I’m working from home. I’ve spent years convincing myself that working was important to me and therefore good for my kids as well. In many way it was and still is. I want my girls to see their mom engaged and focussed on something (besides them) that is exciting and important to her. I have many great memories of them in the office, on photo shoots and business trips. I was proud to have them see me at work and to show them that what I do is fun and stimulating. I want them to jobs they care about and showing them my job was an important step in that direction. None of this has changed.

The problem is, when I was working full-time I was crabby a lot. I was late for dinner almost every night. I remember the panic I felt when the train was packed and I had to wait for another, knowing that everyone at home was hungry and that I still had to stop at the grocery store and get some kind of vegetable because my husband--wonderful as he is--is incapable of purchasing green things.

When I was working at an office I was always desperate for time alone. Today, I still want to be alone and read every night but having spent the day by myself I’m not jonesing for it. I don’t fantasize about coming home to an empty house. My favorite time of day is no longer after everyone goes to sleep.

And the shrill edge of stress is gone.

I can’t believe I just wrote that. How freaking sad is it that my choices are working in an office, making a lot of money and being shrill. Or, working at home, barely squeaking by financially (for the time being) but being sane(r).

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