For the past few weeks, whenever I mention to someone that I work at home, their immediate response is, “oh, so you have a nanny come and watch Bowie?” And when I say no, things are working out for us at the moment, I get only one look—perplexed.
Honestly, I’m just very lucky. The type of work I do is such that I can pick it up and put it back down a hundred times an hour if I need to. And I don’t have to keep certain hours. When he’s napping I have a good chunk of time during which I am able to get quite a bit of work done. And then again at night for an hour or so before going to bed. The point is, it gets done. And it gets done well. If I had a big, high-powered, fast-paced kind of job, I’d get a nanny in a second. But I don’t have that type of job and don’t need help.
I know people mean well, and I appreciate the concern and the advice. But none of them knows of the exact nature of my work, of my working style, of my son’s daily routine or typical behaviors, of my income and whether it’s worth paying for the help or not. What worked for them is not necessarily what will work for us. Heck, what works for a ton of people in this world, in this day and age, still is not necessarily what will work for us.
I enjoy the way things are working right now. I look at my hourly breaks from the work as a bonus, not a pitfall. I’m happy when I’m with him, which I’d like to think improves my job performance. I have had some busy days where I know I won’t get everything done that I want to. Once in a while something’s got to give, but I’d rather it to be the laundry or the trip to the store. I’m not above asking for help–when I need it.