I used to secretly be a little jealous of working moms, I admit. They had this whole other world, this whole other 'gig' to be responsible for. They got to work at a computer like an adult, have adult conversations with other adults on the phone.
I was jealous, I admit.
Then I became, KINDA, in a very, small infinitesimal way, a working mom. A work from home mom for only a few hours a week.
I bow to you. I'm not worthy.
The anxiety. The constant worry that I've forgotten something, anything. Something big, something little. But that I forgot. I also worry about, are you ready? That I lied. Really. I worry that I accidentally lied about my hours, even though I meticulously document them, or my expenses, even though I have receipts for any of those.
I worry about accidentally lying. I worry about forgetting things. Every.single.day.
And then there is the mom stuff. I'm constantly torn: what to do first? The work stuff or the mom stuff? Do I work and let the kids play? Or do mom work and let the kids play? Or play with the kids and let everything else wait until after bedtime and I'm exhausted?
There's no easy answer, except I wasn't prepared for this. I knew there'd be an adjustment period - but I thought it would be an adjustment period of just my time management skills, not my anxiety ridden messed up mind skills as well.
So, full time working mamma's? You're rock stars. Full fledged, Lady Gaga, Madonna, Kelly Clarkson ROCKSTARS. YOU bring home the bacon and fry it up in the pan.