Forging On.

I think I've finally recalled where I was heading with my last post in this vein.

Working from home.

When you first start a family and all your sense are filled to overflowing with the sweet smell of all things Johnson & Johnson, the sweet touch of a (clean) baby's bum, the amazing taste of living a worthwhile life, and the sight of all the melt-your-heart-moments of parenting; you begin to feel that working from home is the. best. option. ever. Suddenly you're reading entrepreneurial websites and magazines, trying to figure out how to create the income you need out of old dish rags. After successfully navigating the first three months of a child's life you begin to feel like superwoman, surely you can do anything!

There are a lot of times that working from home is not all that it's imagined to be, (at least by me). Even though I am at home all day with my kids I've missed many firsts. Like when Belle was little and started saying 'hello', (her first word), I honestly thought it was part of the dictation I was transcribing. Even now on days when I have to get work done, I only see them playing out back through the window as I glance up every few seconds. Balance is constantly elusive as I'm working for my paying gig, but see the tasks of my un-paying gig piling up. Not to mention the sleep deprivation. I've been so blessed with good sleepers, and from really early on, and yet I am up until two or even three a.m. a good share of nights just trying to get everything done.

For so long I felt like I stradled two lives. One in which it was my sole responsibility to bring in a certain amount of bacon, one in which it was my sole responsibility to cook the bacon. The division between the two, a blur. I sit here at my computer to upload pictures, try to keep them organized and share them with the world. I also sit here, sometimes, and get paid by the minute. Not to mention that I want to sit here to do things purely for my own pleasure.

I have about 500 square feet that are my home, my office, my life. The 'mommy' hat never comes off, even when I'm 'at work'. The domestic to-do list doesn't fade into the background, even when I'm focused on typing 90+ words a minute. Within me exists a constant nagging voice; 'is this really what I am supposed to be doing at this exact minute?'.

I don't think working from home is any harder than working outside of the home, or any harder than just, (and I say that completely sarcastically), being a stay at home mom. I think all lives have a degree of hard. I work because the choices we've made lead to responsibilities we must endure.

When I arrived in Georgetown I was standing on the precipice of an entire year of not working. Due to the graciousness of my previous employer I had worked enough hours to entitle me to mat leave benefits. For 12 whole months I was going to be a full time parent, a full time wife, a domestic goddess. The possibilities were all coming up roses.