I don't stop working

Working from home is like my dream come true.

Since I had my babies, I always dreamed of having a more flexible schedule.

Time that would allow me to be both the amazing mom I wanted to be, the wife that got so much shit done, AND the career woman who could help bring in income for our family.

Well, now that it's here?

Jesus fuck it's hard.

Of course I don't get the benefit of dropping my kids off at school and daycare, so it's just all fucking day long of request after request after request.

So, I try to start my day early because I know my attention will be stretched thin. So I start maybe around 7:30/8am (work technically starts at 9am).

I work a few hours. Take a break to hang with the kids. Work another couple of hours.

But because of this, I end up working well into the night.

Well, until like 10-11pm.

It's getting old.

There are some days where I straight up neglect my kids for upwards of 4 hours. Just me yelling over the balcony to make sure they are ok.

It's awful.

I feel terrible in so many ways.

When Steve is home, it's still not ideal. Obviously it's much better, but I'm still home.

My ass is literally numb right now, having not moved from my office chair since 8am.

It's 4:30pm right now.

I think I got up to pee like once.

Listen.

When we were at the office, I'd be getting up ALLLLL the time. Chatting with people. Sitting at the common table so I'd be out in the middle of it all.

I loved it.

I loved the 5 minute (ok, 10 minute) hallway conversations with people, catching up.

Don't get me wrong.

I'm incredibly grateful to have my job still.

I'm equally grateful and terrified that Steve is considered an "essential worker" in that he's still getting paid (and with shorter hours!) but it also means he's out in the community and the chances of him being in contact with someone who is positive for COVID-19 are pretty high.

So yeah.

That's where we're at.