Three and a half years ago, my dream of working from home came true. I had long envisioned a life in which I could work in my pajamas with a ponytail in my hair during any hours I choose. My schedule would somehow magically revolve around the needs of my family and home, allowing me more freedom than ever before. I would be SuperMom, making it on time to all of the various activities and appointments that teenagers require. All of my work would be done on time, and all of it would be of an above-average quality. Less than a week later, I learned the hard way that dreams come with a price. Working at home is not as glamorous as it’s cracked up to be, trust me.

While I do tend to work in pajamas and a messy ponytail most days, I admit that no other parts of my earlier visions were correct. After more than fifteen years spent in office settings, I also will now freely admit that it’s easier in many ways to have one of those 9-5 jobs I spent so much time griping about. You see, life happens – when you least expect it. Sure, you can pencil in times to work… time for appointments… times to cook, clean and do the laundry. What you cannot pencil in are the million other distractions that are going to come your way every moment of every day.
The kids simply want to see me. The princesses will come down at random times through the day for hugs and kisses, or to show off something new they’ve learned. They return to the upstairs and their Mommy (my daughter) after just a short period. However, I have to then dash off a Tweet or an email to family members to brag about the uber-awesome thing they just did or said. My other daughter – who is fifteen – wanders down every time some type of drama happens she must discuss immediately. Remember – she’s fifteen. There is always some type of drama going on.
The phone rings. The laundry piles up. There are too many dirty dishes. Someone gets hurt. Another person suddenly develops a fever/rash/cough that requires a doctor. Yet another person has forgotten some item they absolutely need at school right then and there (and yes – I’ve gone to the school in said pajama pants and ponytail, tyvm!). The granddaughters may bonk their noggins while running hell-bent through the house and need Nana’s special kisses. Oh crap, I forgot to start dinner!
Someone in the chat room needs to talk about whether their ban was legitimate or not. Three other people IM me to air their thoughts on some pressing matters. I search my favorite website for possible story leads, and end up reading twelve other articles simply because they interest me. Oh crud – that one links off to three sources that look promising! Another hour is lost while I check those stories and tidbits off, as well. Let’s not forget Twitter. I admit to being addicted, and having to shoot off at least ten to twenty of those every day. Thank god they were genius enough to limit me to only 140 characters, or I’d spend four times as much time on there.
Something in the house just broke – gotta call the landlady and get approval to call a repair person. Wait on hold forever and a day when I have to call the cable company to resolve an issue on my bill or ask why my upload speeds are once again throttled. Geeez, now I have a question for Chris about a video he recorded, so I have to track him down to see what he wants me to do with it. While I’m waiting, I forget that I could be writing something else – I ended up distracted answering the thirty unread messages in my email Inbox that don’t even have anything to DO with work.
Are you seeing a pattern here, folks? There are so many distractions every moment of every day when you work from home that it takes willpower of steel to somehow block it all out.
The beautiful thing, though, is that I choose to not block out a single moment. Every distraction proves that I am living life. Every interruption by the kids is another memory made and another moment I did not miss due to being away from home in an office somewhere. Hell no it’s not easy working at home, but I am blessed to be able to do so.
Guess what? I feel the need to stop writing now and go soak in a bubble bath for an hour. I’ll finish my work when my fingers and toes are properly wrinkled.




