Lately, I’ve been getting a lot of the “how do you do it” questions which are usually politely asked of parents who work from home. (My secret? I never ever get dressed unless I absolutely have to. Also? I haven’t changed Suzy’s PullUp since October.)
But here- just for fun- is a snapshot of my “work from home” mornings, complete with helpful tips n’ tricks. Days like today are easier days, since none of the three kids under 4.5 have any place they particularly have to be, plus I’ve decided- despite having very little food on the actual premises- to forego food shopping. (Sorry, kids!) Let’s begin:
Set up two bigger kids with a puzzle. Watch them play happily for five minutes. Open laptop. Watch as puzzle becomes a battle of Colosseum proportions. Close laptop.
The wi-fi’s really great down here!
Set up two separate yet identical coloring stations across the room from one another. Wait for it: just as they begin to really get into their projects, the baby will wake from his ten minute nap.
Nurse the baby. Open the laptop. Write two lines with one hand and feel pride at your own ability. Write another line and think of a funny direction this article could take- but don’t write it down, because you need to acknowledge that the baby has squirmed away and the fact that you’re now spraying breast milk all over the child, the computer, and the couch.
Clean the child, the computer, and the couch. Nurse the baby again. Think of some absolutely incredible one-liners and swear that you’ll remember them once you re-open your laptop. Put the baby down for a quick nap. Open your laptop. Forget the one-liners. Cry a little.
Explain to the 2 year-old why we don’t color inside the teapot with markers. Explain to the 2 year-old why we don’t color on our sister with markers. Explain to the 2 year-old why we don’t color on other markers with- wait, you know what? I’m gonna let you just have this one.
Pick up baby who has yet to nap and tell him that he needs to work with you a little. Manage a smile when he fills his diaper in response. Change him. Walk the 2 year-old to the bathroom. Convince the 4 year-old to “just try.” Walk back to the playroom with three relatively clean children- only to have both the 2 year-old and the infant fill their pants. Watch the 4 year-old smugly place stickers on her eyelids.
After re-establishing boundary lines for the big kids, move with the baby into other room. Attempt to soothe him to sleep with the baby swing. Discover that the swing is broken; probably from that time someone fell directly into it after attempting to ride a four-foot stuffed giraffe. Kick four-foot stuffed giraffe. Open laptop. Bounce baby and peck at keys on the downbeat. Enjoy two minutes of a really strong work ethic…until the 2 and 4 year-olds realize you’re in the room with the giraffe and broken swing combo. Tell them no. Whatever they had been planning, just- no.
Finally cave and put on a show for the older kiddos. Place the baby in the non-moving swing. Enjoy the 45 seconds before he’ll decide that he no longer cares for any of your life choices: Take this opportunity to Google something you’ve been wondering: does Seth Meyers does, indeed, have a younger brother who also works in comedy? (He does.)
Receive an email from an editor, asking if a certain piece could be in a little sooner than planned. Say yes, because a) you’re a people pleaser, b) despite writing directly about child-rearing, you don’t want anyone to think that having children has changed your writing habits in the least, and c) you’re a stupid, stupid jerk with no boundaries nor knowledge of time constraints.
Look at the clock. Despair at the fact that, in the past two hours, you’ve accomplished zero laundry, cleaning, food prep, or child-friendly activity, and certainly nothing to submit to anyone who might pay you.
Give up. Join your kids on the floor to do a puzzle while nursing a baby who- not surprisingly- hasn’t gotten any restful sleep. Think of a great segue-way for a blog post- grab a nearby crayon and the back of a coloring book to jot it down.
At the end of the evening, gather all paper scraps and cobble together the day’s ideas into a semi-coherent post. Pray that it’s still as funny in this half-asleep state as it would’ve been during the mid-morning hours. Email that shiz out.
Feel rather good about yourself.
Realize you’re still wearing yesterday’s pajama pants.
Be cool with it.
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