Cornered Office
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/
Get out of my office
Categories: A mother's work is never done, Head hitting brick wall, Now I'm free(lancing)
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I love my children. I love my children. Ilovemychildrenanddon’treallywanttokillthem.
Ahem.
So the thing about my home office is that I used to share it with my husband. When we first moved into this house a few years ago, we packed the room to the gills with our stuff—his desk on that wall, mine on this one, and bookshelves and boxes galore everywhere else. I enjoyed sharing with him (I am rather fond of the guy, after all, and he makes an ideal officemate because he’s quiet and tidy but also fun to be around), but we really didn’t have enough space. And so this summer, we rearranged some other things in the house and my husband moved his office upstairs.
The good news is that now he has enough room for all of his stuff, and I have enough room for all of my stuff.
The bad news is that all of the new-found extra space in my office is rapidly being filled up with child detritus.
My office is where we’d have a mudroom, if we had a mudroom. It’s the room that joins the kitchen and the garage, and therefore the door we go in and out of 99% of the time. We actually spent a lot of time considering whether or not this was the right place for my office, what with it being the main hub of egress for the household, and I knowingly and willingly moved into this space. It would allow me to sort of keep an eye on everyone while I work, not to mention that when I’m still working when it comes time to get dinner started (that only happens… oh, nearly every day…), I can just pop around the corner and get the meal going, then go right back to my desk and work while I wait for the oven to preheat or whatever.
The kids walk into my office after school and I get to see them the moment they get home, and I love that. And I’ve made concessions to the location for years—my office houses our coat rack, a console for shoes, and the spot where the backpacks live when not in use. I expect the kids to leave certain things in here each day; I can’t just declare the office off-limits entirely.
But ever since my husband moved his stuff out… I don’t know whether it’s the increased open space or the fact that the kids were less likely to leave things where he might get on their case, but suddenly they’re leaving everything in here.
There are piles of books on the floor. Socks. My daughter’s flute. Piano books. Wrappers from snacks. All over the floor and my desk and the futon couch.
It’s driving me insane.
And I’m trying to be all hardcore about it and tell them that if it gets left in my office, it becomes mine, but what happens if I take the overdue library book? The library doesn’t get it back. Or if I take the flute, which I paid for? Well, maybe she gets in trouble at band, but eventually I have to give it back if I don’t want her to fail the class. And they certainly don’t care if I take their garbage, which honestly is what most of the leavings are.
I’ve got to come up with a better system, or at least a more credible threat, to get it through their heads that my office is not their dumping ground.
Help?
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One big basket, maybe the size of a laundry basket. That’s where their stuff goes when it gets left in your space. When the basket is full, or maybe every Friday, they need to carry it to their space and empty it. Maybe that’s a chore that rotates between the kids…. With kids there is no way not to have stuff - my goal always was to contain it as much as possible and find a way to routinely put things back where they belong.
Sharon | August 25th, 2009 at 11:47 am
Ooh, I like Sharon’s idea. Plus maybe a revoking of some privilege if the designated child of the week fails to PROPERLY dispose of the garbage, flutes and whatnot in the laundry basket. Or worse, an EXTRA privilege for the OTHER child that week.
Brigitte | August 26th, 2009 at 6:33 am
Storage fee. For every item a particular child leaves (that they know they’re not supposed to), dock their allowance by some small percentage; knock 5 - 10 minutes off of TV or computer time; roll bedtime back by a certain number of minutes…something along those lines.
Phe | August 26th, 2009 at 10:38 am
First you are going to need to develop a spine. My mother was not a clean freak by any means but your stuff went in your room no matter what. It was disrespectful to put our crap in her space. My mother is exceptionally easy going and loving too.
Call them back after they’ve dumped it and have them pick it up. The moment they get home tell them to put it in their room. Then tell them to clean their room. Its a matter of fact issue. Nothing big about this. Kids are supposed to have chores. This isnt a chore. this is just common sense.
gwendolyn | August 26th, 2009 at 1:34 pm
gwendolyn is absolutely correct. Don’t make a problem bigger than it is. YOU hunt them down as soon as you see their stuff in your office and have them remove it for one week. Week two, you won’t have a problem as long as you make it a rule to be followed. All the cute ideas about storage fees and big baskets just teach your kids how to avoid problems instead of confronting them.
Glenn | August 26th, 2009 at 6:11 pm
Do they get an allowance? Perhaps you could make them pay you to get their stuff back. INCLUDING the trash. It’s all fine and good to pay to get your flute back if that’s the deal… But paying MONEY to receive your own trash back just to throw it away? Could be memorable.
Michele | September 3rd, 2009 at 12:54 pm
Why not hide everything they leave in your room? When they’re frantically searching for the flute, backpack, sock, whatever… tell them they have to “go and find it.” A day or two of that will set them straight.
Mommy Reporter | September 5th, 2009 at 8:18 pm