Working From Home

Working from home.  A mother's dream right?  A DREAM job  for a mother with young kids like me - good money, reputable company, flexiblity.  I see the glints of envy in other mother's eyes when I tell them I work from home.  You can almost see the wheels turning in their minds - they're picturing me in fuzzy pink jammies, leisurly sipping coffee while my children color nicely at the table.  They're picturing homemade from scratch lunches and dinners, and homeade treats abounding at all times, because if I work from home I MUST have the time to Martha Stewart it out to the max right?  I know they are thinking that I must have so much quality time with my boys, that I must spend lots of time working with them on letters and numbers, fun games and learning.  That my house is probably always kept up and that I have time for all those beauty treatments they don't.  I see them thinking that, and the puzzling thing is, I enjoy their envy.  It's sad, but I do.  I know that I have an enviable gig, that I am so lucky to have it, and that a million working mothers, or non working mothers who have no money, would love to trade places with me.  And so I don't correct them.  I don't rain on their parade of imagined perks I must enjoy on a daily basis.   What I don't tell them, is the truth.  The truth - that my house looks horrible 90% of the time.  That my children are seriously lacking structure and spend an incredibly unhealthy amount of time watching Spongebob.  That I have no consistency because the amount of work I have is always different, and that my poor boys never know what's coming next.  That because I have to get up a million times a day while working - to fetch juice, make lunch, fix a toy, nurse the baby, answer the phone - it takes me all day, into the evening to finish my work.  That it's quite likely that I have less quality time with my kids than a traditional working mother does.  That the stress of trying to work and answering several thousand "Mom's" a day makes me depressed, unmotivated, and a snappy mom at least half the time if not more.  That my four year old has bore the brunt of my stress, irritation, and exasperation more than a few times, and that I hate myself for that.   That my bathroom sink is perpetually filled with water, because I can't be there to supervise Freddie when he's washing his hands.  That the playroom is a literal dump of toys, pieces scattered everywhere, discarded Little People and action figure parts littering the room.  That I dream of being able to afford a decent daycare, so that I can spend actual time with my kids instead of just being 'there.'   Especially Freddie, I wish so much that I could afford to send him somewhere that he would thrive and enjoy - somewhere where he could be challenged, and learn, and get more attention.  Somewhere where he doesn't have to hear "hold on" every time he needs something.  That is the real truth about working at home - that it is quite a bit harder, I believe, than working in an office, or out of the home.  I've done both, and I truly believe this is harder.  And the worst part is, there is no end in site.  I tell myself that I am doing what I have to do - we can't afford daycare, we just can't.  And I know where they are at all times, they are safe with me, in their own home, with their own things.  For better or worse, they are in the care of their mother almost constantly, and isn't that supposed to be the best thing for children?  I don't even know anymore, if these are valid points or if I'm just justifying - but what difference does it make anyway?  It is what it is - we can't afford to change this situation.  I need to find structure, and order, amidst the chaos, and learn how to thrive myself, so my precious babies can too.