By Amy L. Hatch
When I washed up on the cornfields of Chambana, I was a stay-at-home mom.
Photo by uberculture, Flickr
When I got pregnant with Emmie in 2004, I worked for a Huge Multinational Corporation. When it came time to discuss my maternity leave and after-baby plans with my then-manager, I worked out an agreement with her that included working from home two days a week. My mom would watch the baby the other three days, and that was A-OK with me.
I didn’t love the job; I loved the paycheck. So I figured why not keep at it, since the terms were in my favor?
Then my father died suddenly and I was out of work for almost a month on bereavement leave. Finally, I made my way back to my cubicle and there I found a new manager with a new plan: No work-at-home days for me.
I thought I was OK with that, until I had to leave my girl for the very first time. Even though she was left in the loving hands of her grandmother, I wept all the way to work that day.
It wasn’t worth it, that paycheck. So I quit.
For more than two years I was a housewife and full-time mom. Sure, I did some writer’s piecework here and there, but it wasn’t until 2007 that I landed a gig writing a family-travel column for a fledgling Web site.
I spent two mornings a week writing in a cafe. I earned very little for my efforts, but slowly I came to realize just how much I missed writing for a living. Over time, my work increased, almost without my noticing: More columns, some features — and then a long-term freelancing contract for a popular parenting Web site.
And, of course, in May 2009, chambanamoms.com was born.
Now I find myself working almost 20 hours a week on paper, and many more if I count the hours when my baby sitter is off duty. And please, don’t get me wrong: I ain’t complaining. Writers are out of work more often than not these days, with the real heavy hitters finding themselves not in a newsroom but out pounding the pavement looking for the kind of work I fell into.
It feels good to write, it is great to be paid to do it. What’s hard is the nomadic life of a WAHM. I wander from free wifi spot to free wifi spot, in search of a place that won’t kick me offline at the lunch hour. I get parking tickets. I take phone calls and interview sources with my son shrieking in the background, grabbing my pants and begging me to “play cars! play cars!” I live in fear of my baby sitter quitting to move to the West Coast with her boyfriend.
The house is never clean, my work is never done fully to my satisfaction. I feel guilty when I turn the TV on for the baby, urging him to sit and watch so I can finish just one last story.
Nothing gets my full attention and there is no way to shut down the day. When you work in an office you can leave it behind at 6 o’ clock.
When you work at home, you’re a hamster on a wheel. You’re running all the time, and still the horizon never gets closer.
Today was a bad day: Too crowded with appointments and obligations, heavy with impending deadlines and a feeling of panic about meeting them. I know I’ll check everything off my list when all is said and done, but some days, I can’t help wondering what it would be like to have both feet fully in one world rather than straddling two, always in danger of falling.
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The last line is such a perfect sentiment that I believe I may have to steal it for my book. You will find a way — and it does get easier as the kids get older. Sometimes I’ve had to readjust — get more childcare, ask my husband to spend more hours at home. But before you know it, they will both be in school, your days will be open, and you will be glad that you made this investment, in both your career and your kids, as hard as it is to straddle both worlds. My $.02, of course!
I have the same feelings most of the time. It’s no better if you work outside the home, particularly when the kids are older and have a bazillion activities to go to, especially when you’re doing the job of two people because of lousy budgets.
Wow, this post really speaks to me. I work from home full time now but did the office gig (complete with a very long commute in the Washington, DC area) for a couple of years with a small child. I tell my friends who are moms that sometimes the family takes priority and sometimes its work that gets the priority and that the sooner you accept that reality the better off you’ll be.
Except that I’ve never really accepted that reality. I feel a twinge of guilt every day that my husband takes my daugther off to daycare. But my husband is out of work so what choice do I have? And, the fact is, I really enjoy my job most days and would miss working. So, the conflict never ends for me.