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My approach to my career is an interesting one. I love my work, and I want to get ahead, but I lack the rat-race mentality required to get me there.Work for me is a passion, something I do from the heart. Which is why when the cow refuses, the cow truly refuses. When I'm good, I do tons of work at a pace that make my boss doubt my humanity. But when I'm low, I can go for days at a time drifting along and getting nothing done. I live to work, but I must first love the life I live. Without that, I'm dead wood.
I once felt that I got into my line of work by fluke, but I now feel that my day job is in my bones and that my skill is intrinsic. I really don't see myself doing anything else. I have toyed with some 'summer jobs' that I wouldn't mind dabbling in, but really, there's no other work I want to do. Which brings me to the how. I enjoy what I do, but not how I do it. I prefer to be free agent, a floating spirit, a consultant. But not for the reasons that others have. For most people, calling your own shots is about earning more money, paying less tax, and kowtowing to no-one but self. For me, it's more about living, truly living, loving the little things, having ham sandwiches for lunch, and spending time with my Little One while she still wants me to.
Children are interesting. In one sense, they never stop asking for things. Hence nightmare shopping trips. Yet in another sense, they ask for very little. See, once we grow up, we forget how to talk like little people. We forget that when your child asks you to hug their teddy bear or kiss their Barbie goodnight, they are asking a far bigger boon than when they wanted you to buy the thing in the first place. For my child, kissing her Barbie goodnight is like me kissing her goodnight. So when I brush her off, she feels rejected, confused, lost, and yes, unloved. All the private schools and pretty dresses in the world do not make up for that.
Seems like a lot to draw from a silly gesture, but I saw it in my baby's eyes when I was too tired to kiss Snowflake. I'd had a long day, working hard, to care for her. So I was peeved when some polar bear doll was brought for my affection, and told her I was too tired to kiss both her and the doll. It wasn't until she asked 'Mummy, are you sad when I talk to you' that I realised how upset she was. She hadn't seen me in hours, and she was, naturally, asking me the senseless questions that children do, and I was answering them in my 'please baby let me be' tone. Until she asked that last question and I sat up sharp. I told her I was sorry, hugged the bear, strained the irritation and tiredness out of my voce and attended to my little girl. Her bright smile was worth a million in overtime.
I'm working on a project that has me in the office seven days a week. It's a ritual we do three times a year when EMAC submissions are due, and it's a period my baby girl rues. She freezes up each time I explain that for the next few weeks, I will have to skip our biweekly hair trips, swims and visits because I will be at work. But she has never articulated it as clearly as she did this week. On three separate occasions, she made her views quite clear.
First, she suggested I take a day off work and hire a cab so that I can pick her up from school, bring her home and fix her tea like the other mums do. Many of her classmates have housewives for mothers. Next, she said she wished I would fall sick at work so that my boss would be forced to send me home to hang out with her. Then finaly, she suggested I quit my job and go teach at her school so that she can see me all the time. That last suggestion was so sincere that we sat down and drafted a budget that would see me go back to school, study a different course, change my career path, and get a job that gives me more time with her.
After one such outburst, I was so uneasy at work that I aksed my boss to let me work from home just this once. He wasn't amused, but he agreed. Best day I ever had. We did some girly shopping, had lunch, then sat together as I worked and she did her homework. I did more work than I typically do at the office, and it was more refreshing than any vacation.
It's in that moment that I really decided I want to do that every day, to work my own hours, my own terms, and to always be near my child, at least while she still wants me to be. Many times I have wondered where I would find the drive to consult, to run around pleading with editors, sweet-talking clients and proposing projects to sometimes hostile investors. I didn't think I could do it - and I still don't. But after that one day spent with my child, there's been a change in my mind and in my heart, and for the first time, I truly belive that I will get there.
I am humbled - and amused - at the role faith plays in my life. I often seem pagan and godless, yet my faith opens doors when they are needed, and my God plays rock songs when I most need to hear them, chequebooks only when I need to cash them, and dreams when I'm awake enough to heed them. Today, my dream begins. Wish me luck!
I once felt that I got into my line of work by fluke, but I now feel that my day job is in my bones and that my skill is intrinsic. I really don't see myself doing anything else. I have toyed with some 'summer jobs' that I wouldn't mind dabbling in, but really, there's no other work I want to do. Which brings me to the how. I enjoy what I do, but not how I do it. I prefer to be free agent, a floating spirit, a consultant. But not for the reasons that others have. For most people, calling your own shots is about earning more money, paying less tax, and kowtowing to no-one but self. For me, it's more about living, truly living, loving the little things, having ham sandwiches for lunch, and spending time with my Little One while she still wants me to.
Children are interesting. In one sense, they never stop asking for things. Hence nightmare shopping trips. Yet in another sense, they ask for very little. See, once we grow up, we forget how to talk like little people. We forget that when your child asks you to hug their teddy bear or kiss their Barbie goodnight, they are asking a far bigger boon than when they wanted you to buy the thing in the first place. For my child, kissing her Barbie goodnight is like me kissing her goodnight. So when I brush her off, she feels rejected, confused, lost, and yes, unloved. All the private schools and pretty dresses in the world do not make up for that.
Seems like a lot to draw from a silly gesture, but I saw it in my baby's eyes when I was too tired to kiss Snowflake. I'd had a long day, working hard, to care for her. So I was peeved when some polar bear doll was brought for my affection, and told her I was too tired to kiss both her and the doll. It wasn't until she asked 'Mummy, are you sad when I talk to you' that I realised how upset she was. She hadn't seen me in hours, and she was, naturally, asking me the senseless questions that children do, and I was answering them in my 'please baby let me be' tone. Until she asked that last question and I sat up sharp. I told her I was sorry, hugged the bear, strained the irritation and tiredness out of my voce and attended to my little girl. Her bright smile was worth a million in overtime.
I'm working on a project that has me in the office seven days a week. It's a ritual we do three times a year when EMAC submissions are due, and it's a period my baby girl rues. She freezes up each time I explain that for the next few weeks, I will have to skip our biweekly hair trips, swims and visits because I will be at work. But she has never articulated it as clearly as she did this week. On three separate occasions, she made her views quite clear.
First, she suggested I take a day off work and hire a cab so that I can pick her up from school, bring her home and fix her tea like the other mums do. Many of her classmates have housewives for mothers. Next, she said she wished I would fall sick at work so that my boss would be forced to send me home to hang out with her. Then finaly, she suggested I quit my job and go teach at her school so that she can see me all the time. That last suggestion was so sincere that we sat down and drafted a budget that would see me go back to school, study a different course, change my career path, and get a job that gives me more time with her.
After one such outburst, I was so uneasy at work that I aksed my boss to let me work from home just this once. He wasn't amused, but he agreed. Best day I ever had. We did some girly shopping, had lunch, then sat together as I worked and she did her homework. I did more work than I typically do at the office, and it was more refreshing than any vacation.
It's in that moment that I really decided I want to do that every day, to work my own hours, my own terms, and to always be near my child, at least while she still wants me to be. Many times I have wondered where I would find the drive to consult, to run around pleading with editors, sweet-talking clients and proposing projects to sometimes hostile investors. I didn't think I could do it - and I still don't. But after that one day spent with my child, there's been a change in my mind and in my heart, and for the first time, I truly belive that I will get there.
I am humbled - and amused - at the role faith plays in my life. I often seem pagan and godless, yet my faith opens doors when they are needed, and my God plays rock songs when I most need to hear them, chequebooks only when I need to cash them, and dreams when I'm awake enough to heed them. Today, my dream begins. Wish me luck!
