Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Mom at work.

Whilst in the middle of chatting with a girlfriend, and making breakfast, my telephone rang. From the number it was a client and friend whose problems were of an urgent nature. Interrupting both my activities with a polite "I'm sorry I have to take this." I answered the phone. This is the problem with the Other Job. Its not a set schedule of hours. It just pops up in the middle of the rest of life and expects to be dealt with NOW.

There was this one associate I worked with who ONLY called when I was up to my arm pits in a project. Once, he interupted himself to ask, "did I catch you in the middle of anything?"

"Yes," I responded. "I was making bread." At least he understood when I showed up at his office with flour in my hair.

Another associate only seemed to phone when I was in the middle of changing diapers. After almost dropping my phone into the poopy side of a big mess, I gave up answering, and just started returning his calls thirty seconds later. It is actually a good strategy for keeping the Other Job seperate. I love caller ID for the same reason. If there are screaming children in the background, I'm not about to answer a work call. Family will understand.

Of course, small children and phones have an ongoing competition. If all is quiet and you answer the phone, you only have five minutes to complete your business before someone screams, hurts themselves or demands loudly that you get them more to drink. Seriously. Ask any stay at home mom, even those who don't have another job on the side. It could be 2 AM, and the wee ones asleep for hours, and they will still pop up while you are talking on the phone.

At least my girlfriend runs her own business as well. She just laughed and said, "I'm glad to see I'm not the only one."

Monday, February 16, 2009

Valentines Dinner

It was a romantic candle light dinner. A fine wine accompanied an elegantly prepared shrimp and pasta dish, and they were served under the delicate glow of candle light. As I stared across the table into my husbands eyes, the far off sounds of splashing water served as an auditory back ground. It lasted all of fifteen minutes.

You see, the table was our own, the dinner served during one of those rare down times when both children were occupied. The splashing was our eldest, sequestered to a bubble bath for the duration of the meal, and occasionally you would hear her happy little voice commenting on another bubble creation. Nyobi mussed once, but settled quickly.

The wine was sparkling juice, courtesy of baby #3 who can not have booze yet. One candle burnt out in the middle of the meal, and it ended before dessert course with the call of "Mom? Daddy? Mommy? I ready to get out!" from the bathroom.

Romance is where you find it. If you have small children, sometimes you have to slip it in quick, and smile at the absurdity of it all. At least the shrimp dish WAS indeed elegant. Pete cooked it.