Child Labor

I’m glad yesterday happened. I had begun questioning my current arrangement.

Once, long ago when Sasha was very new, I teleworked quite often. I loved the arrangement. I got to sleep in a little since I did not have to commute any further than down the hall. I got housework done because no one said you can’t return calls while putting in a load of laundry or host a teleconference while tossing together a crock pot of chili. And newborn babies, for all their work intensiveness don’t actually *DO* much. They like to be held when they eat. They like to be held when they sleep. If you have a comfy chair and a good boppy to use at your desk then you are set.

I started having trouble when he became mobile and hadn’t yet been endowed with any sense. I found myself chasing him constantly. I needed help. He started going to daycare. I was able to work again.

But he now does have *some* sense. He also knows better ways to entertain himself. He has his puzzles and his books and his movies and can be quiet for hours. I was wondering if being a work-at-home mom was once again possible.

The answer is, no. At least as long as he is home with me.

• He joined in a teleconference and babbled on about who knows what for far too long before I realized it was him on the extension.
• He kept slipping in to the office, climbing on me, taking the security card out of my computer (locking it out).
• He repeatedly took off with notes and office supplies, and the clincher?
• Leaned in for what he’d promised was a kiss only to shout “KABONK!” and headbutt the bridge of my nose.

I’m sure he wasn’t much more fun for Hubby who was trying to work as well. I know the kid gets bored and wants interaction, but black eyes and bloody noses aren’t a good road to pleasantries.