Underemployed

This morning, I had to make some urgent edits for a client. Fitting in work during our morning routine is never easy, but I quickly calculated that my task would require 1 unit of Noggin time -- almost exactly 24 minutes -- and I fired up a crowd-pleaser: Max & Ruby. With Joey and Clara immobilized in front of the TV, and Molly asleep in her swing, I rushed into the office, racing against the clock.

As hard as it may be to fit in, I'm proud that I can still manage to make time for my design work. It's like keeping my brain cells on a fits-and-starts cardio regimen. Even if I can't do it every day, doing something other than the daily drudgery of childcare and housework is bound to be a good thing. And while I may not be the breadwinner around here, my intermittent paydays do make a difference.

Which is why I got so irritated when Max & Ruby ended -- and domestic chaos resumed -- all before I had completed my task. Immediately, I was fending off a toddler trying to climb in my lap for "snuggles," and a demanding 4 year-old who was insistent that he was starving, despite the fact that he had just finished breakfast a half hour ago. Desperate for a few more minutes of work time, I tried to shepherd them both out of the office and into the family room. "Mommy needs to do five more minutes of work, okay??"

Joey crossed his arms, and replied imperiously, "Work?? You don't work! Daddy works!"

Immediately my hackles went up. "Mommy works, too! I just don't go to an office like Daddy."

Clearly not processing this, he responded, "No you don't. You work for us!" And then he swivelled around and retreated to the family room, almost certainly plotting what mess he was going to make next.

One thing is for sure: He will never be a domestic serf himself.