The past few weeks saw a trial by fire, of sorts, as I got back to work with several projects due on the same day. In my past life as a writer with no kids, the workload would have been light. But now, one article, one edit, and a PR piece was a lot.
First, Boris got an ear infection. Having to be on amoxicillin made him poop like a newborn for two weeks straight, but at least he wasn’t crying constantly. Still I ended up in a pattern of work-nurse-work-nurse-play with Hamlet for five minutes-work-nurse-work-nurse. See where this is going? Hamlet began to feel neglected, and started to act out.
That problem was easily remedied once the jobs were complete. I took him food shopping alone one day; another day I didn’t touch the computer. Rain Dog also had a week off (great timing, state department of education!) and we had a good mix of quiet days home and fun things. However, it does touch on a problem I’ve had since high school: I work much better under pressure and last-minute.
I have learned by now that everything is “under pressure and last-minute” when you have children, yet I still goof off because “I still have time.” Once upon a time I was the only one who had to deal with the consequences (though there usually weren’t any), but now other people–small dictatorial people–have to deal with them too. Solution: retrain myself to take those five-minute bits of time more seriously. But hey, I’ve got 15 years to do it. Right?
