with Mir Kamin
I'm a freelance writer and mother of two working from home, which theoretically means I can set my own schedule so as to best accommodate my family. In reality, "flexible hours" often equals "working too much." Yes, I'm my own boss; no, that doesn't mean life is easy. It's hard to leave the office when you live there. But I love what I do and feel very lucky. And not just because I get paid to work in my pajamas.
To learn more about Mir, check out her profile on Work It, Mom! or visit her blog at http://www.wouldashoulda.com/
So I’ve mentioned before that I’m headed to BlogHer Business this week, right? I’ve already talked about all of the great reasons to go—it’s a great networking opportunity, conferences in your field should be considered necessary business development opportunities, etc.
What I didn’t talk about was the fact that this whole flexible-career, be-available-to-the-kids thing has spoiled my children beyond reason. As in, they think I should be around all the time. As in, they don’t want me to go.
(How do I know this? Oh, I may have started getting the idea last night at bedtime as my daughter hung on my arm and cried, “Don’t go, Mama! Stay here with us!”)
For the last two weeks I’ve been focused on what to wear, what to pack, what to say, getting caught up on work, getting ahead on work, coordinating child care for the time when my husband needs to be elsewhere, and… completely failing to notice that my kids aren’t pleased that I’m leaving.
Let’s be clear: My daughter isn’t exactly a toddler. She’s nearly 10, and a big show of “Mommy don’t leave me!” is just that, to some extent—show. She’s old enough to understand that this is something I need to do for work, and that I won’t be gone for long, and I didn’t think it would be a big deal to her. She knows what I’m doing. She understands that it’s not as though I’m ditching the family and going to Disneyworld without them.
But it is a big deal, because I’m always here, and also because this is the first time my husband will be flying solo with the kids.
Oh, the kids and their stepdad have spent a day together or what have you, over the last year, but this is the first time I’ll be gone for several days and the three of them will be trucking along in their everyday routines without me.
Me, I have no worries that my husband will be just fine. The kids, too. And I’m looking forward to the conference.
So why do I feel so guilty?
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