A Real 'Working' Job

Being a work-from-home mom is not always the best of gigs.  I am constantly juggling life on both sides of the working fence--not quite a stay-at-home mom and not quite a corporate ladder climber.  I try to keep my work tasks scheduled during normal school hours, but there is often a glitch in the routine:  an unexpected day off, a child who comes home sick or a West Coast phone meeting that can only happen when everyone is home at the end of the day.

I have managed to extend my work hours today by letting the boys walk home from school on their own.  I can only imagine the “walking path” chatter as other moms innocently ask, “Where’s your Mom today?  She must be so busy with work—we never see her.”  Somewhere between the decision to not go to an office and the decision to sometimes let the boys walk home on their own after school, I have seemingly been shunned by some of the other moms in our school community.  They roll their eyes whenever I turn down a volunteer request by citing “work conflicts” and though I can’t prove it, I’m pretty sure when my number pops up on their caller ID they don’t answer for fear that I am about to ask them to pick up or take to a sports’ practice or change dates for bringing the game snacks. 

“Shhhhhh,” Nate says as they walk in the front door. “Mom’s still working.” 

“Working on what?”  Jack asks.

“Work—you know, writing stuff.”

“Work?  Mommy doesn’t have a real job—she just writes stuff.  That’s not a real job like William’s mom—she’s a police officer.  Ooohh, or an army guy, or the person that brings our pizzas—those are cool jobs.  Mommy needs a real job, you know a real 'working job'.”

I realize it is hard for Jack to wrap his head around the idea that his mom actually has a job, after all—I’m always home.  When Jack was asked what his mom did all day while he was at school he simply stated:  “she plays on her computer.”  True—and while that is a perfectly good answer coming from an elementary student, it is probably the same answer some of my neighbors would give if asked the very same question (of course, they would spice it up with additional commentary such as “Well, she’s certainly not doing her laundry—did you see what Nate was wearing yesterday?”).

“Mom!” Jack yells as he comes up the stairs and into my office.  “See, Nate—I told you she wasn’t working.  She’s just on her computer.”

“Hi, Jack,” I answer.  “How was school?”

“Good—I painted today.  Do you want to see?” 

“Of course.”  As Jack digs through his backpack to find today’s art project I dig through my desk drawer for a thumbtack—knowing he will want this painting, like all others before it, displayed nicely on my bulletin board.

“Wow, Jack—that’s awesome.  Looks like you really worked hard today.”

“What did you do you today?”  He asks.

“Well, I worked on my book, talked to a few people on the phone about a story and wrote some things for my clients.” 

 “Oh,” he sighs as he starts to walk out the door.  “You should really do something that can be put up on a bulletin board.”

“I’ll work on that, Jack.  Thanks.”