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Working for Home

4/25/2011

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A manager at work today interrupted himself and pointed at me, "What's that?" he asked.

I juggled the notebooks and water bottle I was carrying, puzzled.

"Is that a princess Band Aid?"

"They work better, Tom," I said, "everyone knows that."

This morning, after dividing to leave our house in immaculate condition for the two showings we had scheduled today, I reinjured my cut finger and, short on time, grabbed the first Band Aid I could find.  Once at work, I struggled across the parking lot with my useful but enormous "laptop tote," a cookie sheet full of leftover dyed Rice Krispy eggs, and a three quarters of a coconut-orange cake.  I made a second trip later for the Easter basket full of candy.  On feet that just hurt, despite my Dr. Scholls orthotics.

Helpful tip: If you rediscover a cute pair of shoes in your closet and you can't remember why you  never wear them, most likely, there's a perfectly good reason.  I was limping to my car this afternoon.  Grey snakeskin stilettos may be cute, but they have outlived their usefulness in this life.

Later I sat across a conference room table from another manager anxious for me to commit to a role on his project.  I shifted uncomfortably, as I am wont to do.  "It's not a matter of being willing," I tell him, "It's a matter of what I am able to do at this point."  I tried to get him to flesh out what the role would look like before I committed to it. "I only work 32.5 hours now," I told him.

"We can fix that," he said.

"It's not broken," I countered, perhaps defensively.  I didn't mean to be.  But going part-time has left me kind of uncertain about my place and purpose.  I've become a generalist.  It's made a positive difference, sure, but it's not really enough of a change to count, at work or at home.  Enough to make a financial impact, enough to lift the burden of groceries from my weekends, but so far that's been about it. 

I am hoping for bigger changes, at some point, but we are not there yet. So for as long as I am in this position, I'd really love to do something well.  Completely.  Sometimes, part-time feels like I'm never fully anywhere.  That's not the kind of employee I want to be, and it's certainly not the kind of mother I need to be. I settle for good enough more often than I would prefer.

The other day in the car Mirabella said, "Hold on, I gonna be on a phone call.  I haf to put my ears in."  I cringed.  She watches everything, mimics everything, and I would like the reflection to be a little more flattering.

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    About Me

    Christina | Virginia Beach
    Psuedo Yankee, city-loving former working mom of four finds herself home with the kids and transplanted to the somewhat Southern suburbs. Finding her feet while still attempting to harness the power of the passion of her youth for useful good.

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