I’ve been a work-at-home mother in earnest for about six or seven years. I dabbled before and I’ve had quieter times some years/months than others but since 2002ish I’ve been making a decent-sized to full-time contribution to our family’s finances.

Am I proud of that? Oh hell yeah. Very proud. But somedays (today) I am also very tired.

I’m not quite a working mother because I do most of my work from home. But I’m not quite a stay-at-home mom either because I’ve got responsibilities that go beyond my family sphere.

Because I’m the one home and because I generally like it and am good at it, I’m also the one responsible for most of the family meal planning, grocery shopping and cooking. And here may I give a shout out to my trusty crockpot, without which my family would eat a lot less healthfully and for much more expense. We buy few packaged or processed foods and so I also do a lot of baking and snack prep. Being the one closest to the kitchen most days, I handle breakfast and lunch.

We split the difference in housekeeping but the day-to-day picking up falls to me because that’s the reality — if I’m the one tripping over it then I’m the one either picking it up to put it away or I’m the one hollering at one of the kids to do it.

Speaking of kids, I do the bulk of the raising of them. Again, it’s all about proximity. When Brett’s home it’s an even split with allowances made for other responsibilities like budgeting (Brett) and never-ending laundry (me, because Brett has ruined too many of my cold-wash only clothes). Also I tend to work in the evenings, which means Brett usually gets small people ready for bed although I’ll come by for a story and snuggle.

We are both crazy-busy. Brett works ten hour days most days and I work in bits and pieces all day and into most evenings. Our kitchen floor is sticky and the dishes tend to pile up. We should dust more and the vacuum seems to spend more time in the closet than it should. We both have occasional clothes crises when we realize someone has run out of socks. Our life is nuts.

Most of the time I’m fine with the way things are. I’m pretty smug with all we manage to get done on a day-to-day basis. We’re an at-home, working, homeschooling family and somehow we manage to do it and every one is clothed and fed and attended to. Lately I’ve even managed to get on the elliptical trainer three or four days a week. We rock!

But oh lord, we are so tired.

The summer before this I went to visit a friend who is at-home with two kids — both schoolaged although it was summer so they were home. She also has a weekly housekeeper and money to burn, which means that stopping for a pizza on busy girl scout’s night is no big deal. They have a big, sunny, spotless house and visiting her is a little like a mini-vacation to me.

My friend is a lovely person, committed to homemaking in the best sense — decorations for every major holidays, personally packed lunches with a note tucked behind the thermos, fresh cookies and milk every afternoon — and then she got an offer to do a volunteer project that she really wanted. It was a big project but nothing beyond the order of chairing a PTA fundraiser. I mean, she’d have to scrap less for a couple of months, maybe stop for that pizza one night more. And the pay-off would be totally worth it.

“But Dawn!” she said. “How on earth will I have time?”

And I laughed and laughed and laughed and then I saw she was serious and I told her she’d figure it out. But really I was thinking that maybe I was the wrong person to ask because from my vantage point she had nothing but time. I mean, if I had her kind of time (and a housekeeper to boot), I could have written twelve books by now.

But on the way home (still chuckling in my car) I realized that this is one of the mixed blessings of having to work and having a family — you really find out how much you can get done when you just have to do it.

Anyway. I’m tired today and the kids were obnoxious so I’m looking at staying up late banging on my keyboard. I’m feeling a little sorry for myself (especially because I had to turn down a couple of fun social events for which my schedule would NOT make way). My working life doesn’t always comfortably make room for the primacy and urgency of my home life and my at-home world doesn’t always understand the primacy and urgency of my working life. In a lot of ways — and most days I can see it like this — I feel like I have the best of both worlds but in a few other ways — and it happens today I’m seeing more of this — I feel like I can’t get my head above water.

Here’s what I know though, having been down this road before: I’m still learning this job and I’m pretty hard on myself to be on the ball right away so I’m wasting a lot of energy kicking myself for not already being at 100%. Likewise, when I feel down about one thing I tend to visit my bad mood on every little aspect of my life. So not only do I suck at my job (only I don’t — I know this objectively) but I’m a terrible mother ruining my kids with my neglect (only remember I’m a fan of benign neglect) and I miss all the fun (because of the two missed social engagements even though there is plenty of social fun in my life). I have to remember the parenthetical truths and dismiss the paranoia. It’s hard though — wallowing is so much easier.

(Writing this all down made me feel better so y’all can hold off on the virtual hugs. Now I’m kind of embarrassed to hit post but I’m going to in the interest of honesty even when it’s whiny.)

I’m fighting a low-grade depression with bouts of full-fledged anxiety and have been for the past few weeks. Some days are better than others and some evenings are downright swell. But this is an afternoon of mumbling melancholy. This makes it hard to write.

Of course I haven’t been writing much of anything lately unless you count blog posts and client communications (I don’t count them) and this has a lot to do with my bad mood. The new (to me) elliptical trainer helps. Thursday night potlucks help. Kids in general help (except when they’re hanging on me when I’m trying to read or pounding on the bathroom door while I’m trying to take a bath or fighting with each other when I’m on the elliptical trainer and I have to take my iPod earbuds out and scream back at them as best as I can considering I’m a little out of breath and all). But except for those times, the kids are a bright spot to the day. Same goes for their father — generally bright spot — although he also has his moments. (Don’t we all.)

I must be having my midlife crisis because I spend a lot of time thinking about the things I should have done and the things I wish I’d done and the things I better have left undone. This is coinciding with similar feelings from Brett so sometimes in the evening — now that we gave up cable — we play regret roulette; basically spinning our wheels and mourning our choices. 

It would be nice to get through this personal growth time, (which is how I tend to think of these downward spirals) and get onto the next phase of living my life. But I’m waiting for some things to resolve and a bunch of those things are out of my control. So I’m waiting. Fidgeting. Feeling sad and scuffling around the house.

Lemme tell you, the state of politics isn’t helping any. 

I’m feeling very woe is me.

My dad: I mentioned yesterday that my dad gave me a pep talk, which was just what I needed. My dad is a financial planner (here’s his linkedin) and he cut his teeth as a door-to-door insurance salesman. He knows from hustling and working on commission and not letting the bad days stop you cold. He knows a lot about marketing and networking and all the things I’m trying to learn. A pep talk from him includes stellar advice and encouragement.

(As some of my longertime readers know, my dad and I have had our issues. One of the latent consequences of Brett losing his job and me going out on my own this past year and a half has been to help me build a positive, nurturing and loving relationship with him. Thanks corporate lay-offs!)

My mom: I can always count on my mom to boost me up and cheer me on. She’s my biggest fan. Just knowing I can call her anytime is enough to make me not need to call her, you know? Unconditional love that I can take for granted — well, I know that’s made me the woman/mother/writer I am. PLUS! She has this fantastic elliptical machine that’s gym-quality that I’ve been nagging her to loan me for years. (She used to use it a lot but doesn’t so much these days.) I nag her out of habit now because she always rolls her eyes at me. But guess what! You guessed it! She’s loaning it to me ’til she retires (a couple years away) and that means: ENDORPHINS! Yes, my friends, a steady workout is in my future! Our own elliptical trainer is getting noisier and lumpier every time I use it, which precludes using it. Can’t get on when the kids are occupied watching tv because it’s too loud for them to hear the television. Can’t do it while they’re sleeping in the morning or after they’re in bed because it’s loud enough to wake them up (it’s just below their rooms). I get it this Sunday and I am already full of joy just thinking of it!

Brett’s parents: They’ve offered to take the kids whenever I need it and whenever their schedules allow (they’re very busy retirees). I hate to ask because I’m like that but today they called and asked — asked! — to take the kids fishing. As if I’d refuse. This is incredibly fortunate because I have a lot of work and the kids are driving each other nuts so I can’t leave them to kinda play together since I’m breaking up a lot of fights that go like this, “You’re a potato.” “Mommy! Noah called me a potato!” “Rudikins tattletale!” “Mommy! Noah called me a rudikins tattletale!” Then poking/tickling ensues or the dreaded looking in each other’s direction without being invited to look. “He’s looking at me!” “What — I can look!” “AHHH!” “Rudikines potato!” “Mommy!” etc etc etc. Clearly not a day for work.

And this is why the grandparents are at the top of “my god, you are awesome people” list. This is why we’re in Ohio and not in the beautiful Pacific Northwest!!

I haven’t worked out in a long time — my lung capacity, rather on the large size and bad attitude will attest to that. I was remembering that the last time I was in killer shape (for me — my killer shape looks different than I once hoped in my blasted teen years) started when Noah was about four. Four seems to be when I quit thinking of my kids as babies and start thinking of them as kids. 3-year olds still look awfully small and vulnerable and needy and parent-centric to me.

Anyway! I’m going to go back on the squeaky, thumping, broken elliptical trainer. If I keep waiting for the perfect situation to get fit I’ll never find it so the squeaky, thumping, broken elliptical trainer it will be. At least I have one (that’s what I tell myself). So I did that while Madison performed feats of greatness on her mini-trampoline. (Just for kicks, I’m going to upload a picture of her getting xmas morning when she was one going on two. She was cute and fuzzy!)

Remember when I got up to an hour on the trainer? Yeah. Well. Twenty minutes this time around folks. I must have patience!

Wow — endorphins are AWESOME!