PractiGal

WAH WAH WAH - the other side of working from home

I've thought about writing on the topic of working at home (WAH) before, but I've hesitated. I don't want to appear ungrateful for the opportunity to work out of my home. I am very grateful. But the fact is, while working out of your home offers many perks -- like being able to play with your child or talk to your spouse when you take a break, the short "commute," and the "anything goes" dress code -- it does have its downside.

Since my husband is usually in charge of our 3-year-old when I'm working, I tuck myself into our little home office knowing that my boy is in good hands while I toil away. But the fact is, my son knows that Mommy's in there. And sometimes that makes it very, very difficult for me to focus on my work.  Something about that little body banging on the door and crying "Mommy! I need you!" really throws off the concentration. I wear earplugs  or headphones sometimes, but there are days when there's no blocking out the cries for Mommy.

And when I do need to come out of the office -- say, to get food, use the bathroom, or grab a sweater  -- there's always the getting-back-into-the-office separation phase that we have to go through, again. The only way to avoid it is to stay in the office for hours on end. And well, sometimes you just have to get out. I've thought about buying one of these. I don't think anyone would bat an eye if I submitted it as a business expense. Clearly, this is a productivity enhancer; what boss would scoff at that?

In my case, I no longer have the option of going to work at the office, as I now work for an entirely virtual group.  Everyone works out of their homes. I do pack up the laptop on occasion and work at a library, which I've found presents its own unique set of distractions.

There's a lot to read out there on the benefits of working from home, and there are many, indeed. But there are challenges, too. Right now I'm really feeling the challenges, as my son is going through a serious "I want my Mommy" phase.  If I were a night-owl and could work after he goes to bed, we'd be all set. I'd have all the quiet and guilt-free work time you can imagine. But unfortunately, I'm not a night-owl. I've tried to be. Apparently I'm wired to function and work by day -- I think my brain has an automatic shut-off around 9 p.m.

I keep telling myself that this is a temporary phase. He won't always be crying for Mommy. He won't always be home, either. But right now, let me tell you -- it's pretty damn rough.

Spring done sprung!

I know why the caged boy giggles

They say when you marry, you get a whole new family along with a spouse.  I don't know who They are, but I think They're right.

So, our families are different. I mentioned the food thing. And cartoons.

And then there are pets. I grew up with none. Unless you count the invisible dog we had -- Poochie. In fact, no one on my side of the family has a pet, to this day.

My hubby's family are Cat People. They like dogs too, but they are Cat People.  With a capital C.

When I met my husband, he had a cat. A very nasty cat. Oh, she was a cute little gray kitty, but boy was she mean. She'd hiss at me -- as if to say, "How dare you visit him... he's mine. All. Mine." But the thing was, that's how she treated my hubby (then boyfriend) too.

My in-laws have catssss -- as in, multiple cats. Each. So, at family gatherings, there are always cat stories...   "That Kismet knocked over my tea, that's why I'm so late!"

Cat photos taken with high-speed film bought especially for Feline Fotography....  "Look at her, being all cat-like! Oh, and wait! Don't go away -- here's the fourth roll I had developed!"

Cat reminiscing... "Pogo was such a good mouser.... remember that time...? "

To say that I'm out of my element in these situations is an understatement. But I have no desire to be a Cat Person, so I am fine with my outsider role.

And it's not that I dislike cats as a species. I think they're fine. For Cat People.

And see, I think there's a conspiracy underway, or perhaps more of an organic movement, as conspiracy sounds too harsh and deviant. But there is an indoctrination, yes, that's it! There's a gradual indoctrination taking place with my son and cats. He knows that when he sees his Grandma and Aunt there will be cats to chase and torment. He knows that when she visits, Grandma will scratch him like a kitty and that she'll love it when he meows and pretends he's one of Them. He loves the furry stuffed kitty given to him by the Indoctrinators.

For now, my boy is happy to have the world's most in-your-face-friendly neighbor cat as a visitor in our yard. It's like the cat lives here, but we don't feed him and he doesn't come in the house. And someone else deals with his hair balls and vet bills.

That's my kind of "pet."

Or maybe this is.

It does not make messes. Or jump on your back, scaring the crap out of you. It does not eat (except for batteries). And it "breathes" like a real pet.

And hey! Maybe we'll get a dog too. 

Errr. Maybe not, after reading about Coco. I'll pass on the authentic smell.

Or maybe we'll have a Poochie too. No mess, and no batteries required!

Monday laugh

This makes me think of Elaine... "Can you spare a square?"

Have you heard this conservation idea from singer/songwriter Sheryl Crow?

"I have spent the better part of this tour trying to come up with easy ways for us all to become a part of the solution to global warming. Although my ideas are in the earliest stages of development, they are, in my mind, worth investigating. One of my favorites is in the area of forest conservation which we heavily rely on for oxygen. I propose a limitation be put on how many squares of toilet paper can be used in any one sitting.......  I think we are an industrious enough people that we can make it work with only one square per restroom visit, except, of course, on those pesky occasions where 2 to 3 could be required."

Hmm. I don't know about you, but I can't think of an occasion when one square would cut it. Yeah, using half a roll is probably excessive. But 1-3 squares per visit?

I don't know about you, Sheryl, but I plan to train myself and make the reusable shopping bags a habit. But I'll continue to use as many squares as it takes to get the job done.

Sheryl, Sheryl, Sheryl... I'll have a hard time not laughing now when I listen to your music.

In the bag

There's a theme in my life these days: Senioritis. And I'm not talking about the kind you get in high school, two months before graduation.

Fortunately, when I go out for a walk, my feet are attached. Otherwise, I'd surely forget them.

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I married into a crunchy granola family.

While I was raised on the whitest of white Wonder bread, Velveeta "cheese," and TastyKakes,  my husband was given fruits, grains, and non-processed, wholesome foods.

While I watched Bugs Bunny and Tom and Jerry, my husband did not watch any cartoons at home. Ever.

While my family made hearty contributions to landfills and the depletion of the ozone layer with disposable diapers and extensive travel, my husband's parents recycled -- long, long before it was hip to do so.

So, when my grocery store introduced a very reasonably priced reusable shopping bag a month or so ago, I decided I was in. No more plastic bags packed with only one or two items, because that's all they can handle. No more piles of plastic bags to return to the store or to send to the landfill. 

I bought a few of the bags. They're sturdy and very smart-looking. And practical. I like that. And they make a great gift for the mother-in-law!

With the bags in the back of my car at all times, they're ready to be filled up when we hit the store once or twice a week. I load up my shopping cart, with a renewed sense of waste reduction -- both food and packaging. I feel good about this. It's something small that I can do that makes a difference.

And then I get to the checkout. The bags? Are in the trunk. Again. I've remembered to use them exactly once since buying them a month ago.

Sigh.

Will someone please pass the processed cheese spread?

So this is what they mean by a senior moment

We've all had the experience of walking out to a parking lot and thinking, "now where did I park?" Right? Have you ever had that experience in a very large multi-floored parking garage? I did. Today. If you're looking for an adrenalin rush, here's one way to get it.

My dentist is part of a university faculty group, which is affiliated with a large hospital in an urban setting. So, when I go to the dentist, an easy 10 minute drive from my house, I leave extra early because I know I'll need to find a spot in a very large, busy parking garage. No biggee. I really like the dental group, so I plan on a few extra minutes for parking.

This morning, my mind is a million miles away. Thinking about work. And the news. Thinking about the music I'm listening to in the car. Thinking about the fact that I need to make my son's first dental appointment. I nudge along, through the bustling parking garage, driving up at least a couple of levels. Finally, it's my turn at the head of the line, and I get to pounce on an open spot. Usually I make a mental note of the markings on the pillars near my car, before walking away. But today I'm distracted. I do notice the construction going on right outside the garage though; it's incredibly loud and it would have been pretty hard to miss that. At the elevator, my mind continues to wander, but I take charge of the buttons, scanning the group of women who board with me.

Off to the adjacent building, where I take another elevator and exit at the appropriate floor. My teeth are cleaned. Yes, I need to floss more. I know. Yes. Yes. Thanks. See you in six months.

Time to leave. I'm completely on autopilot, until I return to the parking garage. Where I have absolutely no idea which floor to go to. Not a clue where to go in the 6-story garage.

I don't think it's ever happened to me before. I mean, yes of course I've forgotten where I've parked, but I can usually get myself to the general vicinity of my car. A mild panic sets in, as others are calling out their floor numbers in the crowded elevator. I call for "3, please." I think I parked on 3, the orange level. Maybe. At least I've parked there before. I get off the elevator and walk to the far side of the garage.

I must have parked there once, but not today! I laugh. DOH! I remember looking out at the construction, clear across the garage. So, I head over, and walk the entire row, where I'm certain I parked. Not there. I could hit my key fob for a chirp, if I were in the neighborhood of my car,  but clearly I am not.  I wish for a long-range Clapper. A little more panic sets in. Either my car has been stolen or I'm on the wrong floor of the garage. But how could that be?

I can just see the reaction on my husband's face when I call him -- "Honey, you'll never believe this, but I've lost the car!"

Just then, I notice the yellow markings on the pillars. Hmm. Yellow.

Guess what? I didn't get off at level 3/orange.  Hunh. Well, at least I'm getting some exercise! Plenty of walking. And my heart's getting a good workout with all the racing it's doing. And there's nothing like a good adrenalin rush. I head back to the elevator area and take the stairs up one level to the orange floor.

At last, I spot my car.  Massive sigh of relief.

If this is my memory at age 41, I guess I'm pretty much doomed.

Maybe I should switch dentists now and cut my losses. While I still have a driver's license. And all my teeth.

On lurking

Are you a commenter or a blurker?  Or does it depend on the site you're visiting?

I realize that's  an odd question -- since lurkers, by definition, will not respond.

I am a commenter. Once in a while I read only, especially at the super huge popular sites, but apparently I get something out of chiming in. So I comment.

Do you think that blurkers don't comment because they don't want their identities revealed? 

Or because you have to enter an e-mail address when you leave a comment? (And oh by the way, no one says it has to be a real e-mail address.  My husband only comments here with faux addresses.)

And doesn't everyone have 6 e-mail addresses anyway for various purposes? (OK, slight exaggeration -- I actually only have four right now)

Not that there's anything wrong with blurking...

I'm just curious...

I think this is a first

While getting dinner ready, I notice that the kitchen floor could use a good sweeping.

But I can't do it right now. There's an obstacle on the floor.

Yes, he's asleep!

Literally!

Overheard, chez PractiGal...

Dad: "I've lost my head!"

Son... speechless and bewildered, staring at Dad's head....

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Son, seated on Mom's lap at computer: "Can we look at Thomas on the computer?"

Mom, finding a file she needs to upload to be printed and bound:
"Yes! We can look at Thomas after I do one more thing for work. I have to grab this PDF, and go to FedEx/Kinkos."

Son: "Can I come too?"

Distraction

Monthly hormone changes sometimes put me in a very fowl mood. Like today, for example.  In fact, this time, I think the formula of hormones + Easter candy + life have combined for a "perfect storm." Ahh, such a delight!

So, instead of writing something that I might regret, I will share some quotes I collected recently....  And, as Scarlett O'Hara would say: Tomorrow's another day.

Opportunities are usually disguised as hard work, so most people don't recognize them.
Ann Landers

If you would only recognize that life is hard, things would be so much easier for you.
Louis D. Brandeis

I know God will not give me anything I can't handle. I just wish that He didn't trust me so much.
Mother Teresa

Happiness is a perfume you cannot pour on others without getting a few drops on yourself.
Ralph Waldo Emerson

and last but not least...

 

Do you know why they call it 'PMS'? Because 'Mad Cow Disease' was already taken.
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