Over the holidays, I decided to stay home with the kids as much as possible. The plan? I would “work” at home the week after Christmas and avoid the office.
Easier said than done.
The good news?
For the most part, I avoided the office.
The bad news?
I didn’t get much work done. Even worse, I was downright rude to my children.
It never fails. The house is quiet. My kids are playing games, reading, entertaining themselves. All at once, my cell phone rings. It’s an important client. Murphy’s Law takes over, and the girls start fighting. Nick wants a snack. The doorbell rings – it’s the neighbor kid looking for a playdate. My client politely chuckles and says, “Is that a dog in the background?”
I respond reluctantly, “No, it’s my daughter.”
I lock myself in the bathroom. With my laptop. After the call, I am blazing mad. I yell at the kids, “How many times has Mom told you NOT to interrupt me when I’m on a conference call?”
The next day, I’m sitting in my living room trying to edit a document. Anna keeps interrupting me. She wants to show me everything she decided to put in her new purse.
“Just give Mom five more minutes, Anna. I just need to finish some work.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m still in front of my laptop. And Anna’s moved on to something else. By the time I’m ready, she doesn’t want to show me any more. And I’ve lost the moment.
By Friday, I decide I’m just not cut out for this work-at-home thing. I turn off my laptop and we go to lunch. We hang out at the mall and Starbucks. We see Chipwrecked at the movies. We play Just Dance 3 on the Wii.
Work will be there tomorrow.