The Truth about Working from Home
As I emailed a fee agreement to a potential new client this morning, Lil C whined in her booster seat that she had cinnamon on her jammies, that she wanted more cereal (even though she still had a bowl full), and that she was "sirsty" having just downed her cup of milk. When I asked her if she could just wait one minute for Mommy to finish emailing something for work, she yelled "NO!" at the top of her lungs and continued to whine. For all I know, I may have sent an email that says, "Attached please find the fee agreement as requested. Now sit down and finish your cereal!" It’s entirely possible.
I started working from home as a recruiter when Big I was about two years old. It was challenging. Although I made my own hours, I was learning a new industry from scratch. The fact that the job was commission only made it even more challenging. After five months of busting my butt and begging Big I to please watch a movie so Mommy could call a candidate quick, I got my first placement and paycheck. I was hooked.
For a stay at home Mom, recruiting was great money. . . if you had the time and effort to put into it. With one child, it was challenging; with two it’s downright impossible sometimes. However, the money that can be made with only a placement or two a year is much better than if I had a part time job out of the house. So, I do it. I work on my laptop from home, frequently with the Disney Channel as my background music. Instead of coffee breaks, we have diaper changing breaks and time to pick Big I up from school breaks.
This week, Mr. BBM has been away on business and it has been rough. I used to be accustomed to him traveling all the time. Now big trips throw us for a major loop. Mr. BBM takes care of getting the girls their baths and into bed each night. That’s my work time. When he’s not here, work doesn’t happen. This week, I have four new job orders to fill and a potential new client to make happy as well. Instead I’ve been falling asleep in cribs and just trying to keep up with the colossal mess that little girls make faster than you can say "fairy princess."
In the past few years, I have negotiated fee agreements in my bathroom with a locked door, knowing that might be the only peaceful place in the whole house that wouldn’t erupt in a temper tantrum at some point. Sometimes, one or both of the girls would bang on the door of my hideout and I’d have to negotiate faster. I’ve placed candidates with cats and kids on my lap. When people talk about their office jobs and the "distractions" that happen during the day, I don’t have much sympathy. Truly, they have no idea. I highly doubt they have a cat doing his daily duty in a litter box beside the desk, or a girl fight to break up over a Barbie doll. All par for the course with me and my daily life.
Mr. BBM works from home two days a week so that I can go to PT without the girls (I have to take them with me today which should be great fun). Often, when I arrive home, his hair is sticking straight up in the hair from rubbing his hands through his hair in frustration that the girls: can’t get along, can’t be quiet, can’t stop screaming, won’t leave him make a phone call, won’t let him get anything done etc. He gets just a small taste of why my job is extremely part time.
No office job has a demanding two-year old asking you to find her Donald Duck. There are no interruptions for french braids, Dora yogurts, or knock down all out temper-tantrums. So for all those who think that working from home is a cake-walk, I’m here to tell you it’s quite the opposite.
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An Unlikely Nap Locale
I know people who have spent an absolute fortune on baby cribs. Our crib is from IKEA and was purchased for $99. It’s pretty basic. You can adjust the height to two different levels. You can also make it into a junior bed by taking one of the sides completely off. Last week, I took the one side off of Lil C’s bed and she’s been sleeping like a "big girl" ever since. . . once she’s asleep that is.
IKEA has been the store of choice for much of our furniture. My living room is entirely IKEA, as is my bedroom and Lil C’s room. It’s affordable and functional; but visiting the store can be a bit frustrating. My parents once stood in line for hours waiting for a toy chest for Lil C’s room. We have already taken things home to find out that we were missing screws, special IKEA screws that only IKEA people manufacture and you therefore can not find them at Home Depot, requiring a repeat trip.
When all is said and done though, I must admit that my IKEA furniture can take some serious abuse. . .
Lil C insisted that I get in bed with her tonight to "cuddle for a minute," and I figured if only for a minute, it wouldn’t be a big deal. Tonight, I feel asleep in Lil C’s crib/junior bed with her. I woke up an hour and a half later.
Can’t find Mommy? I’ll be napping in the crib. It’s really quite comfortable.
When the Daffodils Bloom. . .
When the spring flowers emerge, it’s generally a good idea to pack away your Christmas decorations. My Mom always taught me that proper etiquette called for Christmas things to be gone by the end of January (Hers are usually down by January 2nd). I strictly adhere to this policy. It looks lazy and tacky if you don’t. If I’ve offended you, please take a few minutes and put away your Christmas decorations before reading the rest of this. I thank you and so will your neighbors.
Today we had another Open House. With about an hour to go before start time, I hustled to Home Depot, bought a bunch of flowers and filled up the pots in front of my house. I made sure to buy some yellow flowers. Apparently that color puts people in the "buying mood." When I was finishing up planting and as Mr. BBM was about to suck up the last of the leaves in our front yard, we noticed that our neighbor still had not put away her rather large plastic light up snowman decoration. This tends to not put people in a buying mood.
Like clockwork, this happens every year. The local Britney Spears just can’t be bothered with undecorating from the holidays. I should mention here that Christmas is not even a holiday that her religion celebrates. A couple weeks ago, it was the box that had been growing appendages on her front porch. We let the Christmas decorations slide since it was still rather cold. This week is April. It’s time to let go of Frosty. It’s time for the yearly reminder, yet again.
Since she wasn’t home, Mr. BBM pulled her "BRRR" sign out of the yard closest to our walkway and stood it up in her doorway, concealed from would be house buyers. He also uprooted another Christmas sign in the yard. He left Frosty to me.
For years now, I’ve been saying that Frosty needs to meet the dumpster. His plastic colors have faded from being kept out in the sun until, usually the 4th of July, and he doesn’t even work anymore. When we get a little wind, he sometimes ends up blocking our path to our front door or camping out sideways in our front yard. I can’t blame him for trying to get away from her yard, but enough already.
I boldly walked into her yard, grabbed the tired old Frosty and concealed him deep within the untrimmed bushes in her front yard. Truth be told, she probably won’t even notice; and if she does, she’ll definitely be too lazy to retrieve him from his forest hideaway.
If our Open House traffic from today is any indication of how our home selling is going to go, this may be the last year I have to get involved with Frosty and "Britney." Here’s hoping.
Blood Letting
Lil C decided she’d wake me up this morning by stealing my nose. Mr. BBM does this to her frequently. It’s their little game and it works quite well when the two of them pretend to take each others noses and then put them back. It didn’t work quite as well with me.
Instead of grabbing my nose, Lil C stuck her finger so far up my nose that she scratched my brain and caused what can only be described as a gushing hemorrhage.
I have never had a nosebleed in my life. For a brief instant I grabbed my nose in pain and then I felt it, the hot gush that was filling up my hand, as I made my way to the bathroom. I guess that’s one way to wake up on a Saturday morning. I think Lil C got far more than she bargained for when she tried to grab Mama’s nose.
I also have a gash on my neck from Lil C’s daggerish fingernails. There are some days she’ll let me trim them and some days that she just won’t. Earlier this week, she grabbed my neck on one of the "won’t" days, dug her nails in and twisted. I dripped blood for a few minutes before it finally stopped. My two-year old is seriously kicking my butt these days.
Somebody put her in a ring. I think we’ve got the next UFC champion in the house.
Don’t let that innocent face fool you.
Second Showings and Death
Today we had another second showing at our house. It was our realtor showing our house. When his assistant told me that he was bringing a woman who had been at our Open House a few weeks ago, I got excited. One of the women who came to our open house told our realtor she loved this house and said, "I could definitely see myself living here." I thought it was her.
It wasn’t.
The woman who visited our house today is 62 years old and came to our Open House with her 91 year old mother. While her mother explored our house with the assistance of her cane, the 62-year old woman, proceeded to tell our realtor that she was looking for a house for her and her 68 year old friend. There’s a catch though. She’s not buying a house for herself and her friend until her mother dies. She said this in front of her 91 year old mother.
So you can imagine my shock when it was this woman getting out of her car today. My realtor had called ahead and told us to not even bother leaving for the showing. As he walked this woman down the stairs to our front door, he mouthed the words, "Just stay. No reason to go. This woman is NOT going to buy your house."
As he finished mouthing these words to me, the woman introduced herself and asked if I minded if she video-taped my house so she could show it to her would-be roommate. I gave her permission. I figured, what are the chances of her showing it to some 60 year old thugs who might come rob my house? While she walked around the house, our Realtor told us the story again, about how she’s waiting for her mother to die. Then he added that her mother currently has pneumonia and is in the hospital. I refuse to wish for someone’s death in order to get an offer on my house.
As the woman left our house, she reiterated that our house is her favorite and the circumstances under which she would buy it. I’m imaging this sales agreement with a contingency that the sale will take place "on the date of the buyer’s mothers death." How insane is that? I mean, why is she even out looking for homes? I can’t believe I cleaned all morning for that.
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