STLWorkingMom

I’m thinking of a variety of blogger gatherings to come; blogger winery tours, blog walks in the fall, blogger potluck, blogger progressive dinners, blogger caroling or breakfast with bloggers. All of the above events could be virtual or in person. We could have several people in person, and others participating virtually. I’m thinking of all of this, and anticipating the next event, just so I can wear this tee shirt, as a joke, of course.

I ran into Matt outside Lime Leaf. In case you haven’t read previous comments, I met Matt first at the recent blogger gathering and then, lo and behold, learned that he works with Jason, which meant, ta da, he works with my husband. This further proves my theory that C’ville is much like my hometown, and one must be kind and polite as the people one meets will soon know everyone one knows.

Speaking of my hometown, it is from whence I post this blog, ever glancing over my shoulder for either nuns/former teachers, former classmates and parents of classmates. Everywhere I go with my mom, she runs into people she knows. And everyone she knows has some connection to someone I vaguely remember. I never wanted to come back to live in this town and am surprised at the number of my classmates that did return here, to live near their parents and to raise their kids. It’s ironic though, that I seem to have moved to a community that, in fact has several similarities to the place where I grew up.

See ya ’round town.

Blogging parents know that NWOK can only mean one thing: a night without kids! That’s what we’re looking at tonight, as the girl enjoys a sleepover at camp.

Ideas? Where shall we go for dinner and entertainment? Maybe we’ll just stay up all night talking, drinking coffee and listening to Steely Dan albums (remember when we used to call them that?). Maybe we’ll go taste a bottle of wine or two. Perhaps we could go for a stroll on the DTM and stop somewhere for a bit to eat. Maybe it’s time to get out of town and explore Orange, Crozet or Waynesboro.

Your thoughts are welcome. Save us from a night of laundry and bad television.

Here’s a shot of me with the boy from Mothers’ Day. Our neighbor took the photo at Cardinal Point Winery. We had a good time that day.

Is it obvious that I miss him?

A friend of mine has had some difficulty adjusting to full time work from a stay-at-home, fluctuating freelance schedule.

Scratch that. Her family has had difficulty adjusting to mom’s full time work.

Another friend, a dad, and I were discussing sneaking work into vacation time, something I’m planning to do, soon. Don’t judge me. I’m not a workaholic. I just really, really enjoy my work. Anyway, the dad, who I’ll call Bryan, ’cause that’s his name, told me how much flack he caught for checking e-mail while on vacation with his family. I get it. I know that I need to be careful not to let work invade my family life. I also appreciate that vacation breaks serve a purpose, allowing employees the rest they need to be refreshed and not on the brink of burnout.

On the other hand, the prospect of returning to an overwhelming pile of tasks and messages is frightening.

As a kid, the youngest of my family, I would lie awake listening to my teenage sisters coming home and the conversations they would have with my parents after their dates or nights out with friends. When my parents would have friends over, I would sneak down the stairs to eavesdrop until either I was caught, or the party broke up. I’ve always hated to miss out on anything. Being away is like being sent to bed early.

It’s not just about balance, as so many writers on the topic would have us believe. It’s also about compromise. A little of this for a little of that. My female friend is compromising with a reduced schedule, providing a bit more availability of her time for her kids’ games and events. I time shift, working early, late or when the family is otherwise occupied so when I’m needed, I can devote my full attention. When we’re vacationing, I’ll give my all to tourist pursuits, barbecuing, dining out and hanging out with friends.

Just don’t tell if I’m blogging from the closet or checking e-mail in the wee hours. It’s a compromise.

I once worked with a woman who frequently reminded us (poor, working saps that we were) that she didn’t “need” to work. Her lack of need was supported by her husband’s mammoth paychecks. While her assertion was a slap in the face to the hardworking rest of us who worked, not only for financial reward, but for career development and personal gratification. The implication was, of course, that we must only be there for the money.

Over time, I came to learn that her need to work was certainly present, only different. While she didn’t need the money to pay her bills, she needed it, as Seinfeld would say, to have “hand.” Employment, at least on a part-time basis gave her the ability to share in decisions with her husband, to make larger purchases without consulting him and to force him to take a more active role as a parent, something she believed he would not do if she were a stay-at-home mom.

Everyone who works has some need to do so. Even work has different definitions. Volunteers work. Parents work. Even retirees work, whether it be in their own gardens, basements or kitchens. Everyone needs some occupation to feel valued, appreciated and alive. The rewards vary and needs fluctuate through the years.

Examining my own need to work, I have discovered that financially my need exists to help kids get through college, fund a comfortable retirement, live a less than strapped life and one day, be able to fund the charities I want to support.

What drives your need to work?