The do-nothing mother

March 19, 2014

Clean clothes sit unfolded in my basket. I’ve only just moved them from the dryer where they’ve been most of the day.

The last time I picked up a duster was in February. Some surfaces are lightly dusted with evidence of this housekeeper’s absence.

Papers litter my coffee table. More evidence of the soon to be preschooler who loves to escape with my printer paper and draw her versions of me, her dad and the dinosaurs that hunt us.

A toy shopping cart sits in the same place it was yesterday. It’s not bothering me so I leave it alone.

On the surface I’m not doing anything. I’m typing away at my computer. All day. I’ve enlisted the aide of my Crockpot to feed my family. I don’t have time to stand over the stove. I’m working.

My sister commented that the roles of my husband and I are reversed. Though he has returned to school after the economy tanked, he’s a full-time student as well as actively pursuing his own dreams. Sadly, I’m not the nurturer that he is. He’s doing bedtime routines, I’m at my keyboard. He’s dusting, cleaning the bathrooms and doing the other general housework. I’m working.

I may cook and buy groceries (He’d pay full-price for stuff and I’m a couponer), but the general running of the house is left to him. I’m management, he’s logistical support.  I admit that when it comes to the brunt of the housework, don’t look at me. I’m probably off working.

Thing is, I freelance (write) for a living, as well as write for the profession I hope to eventually do full-time. My time at my computer is split between those two careers. This doesn’t count the time I spend doing other things associated with the career I’m chasing, primarily in the social media arena.

Knowing that I am working doesn’t stop the guilt that washes over me at times. Driven mommy is at her keyboard, snatching moments of her kid’s life on the road to her dreams.

People are so quick to wag their fingers at those of us who work from home because well…we’re at home.  They don’t care that I’m at work or that if I left the house I’d be gone longer due to commute times and the odd bit of traffic. I live in an area where traffic is not really traffic, but more of an annoyance. Add in prepping dinner and those snatches of time I get now may be even fewer.  I’m lucky to have my support team, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling like a do-nothing mother…