The Shift

The subtle shift started a few months ago. Fewer words written from someone else, more words spoken and plans made for myself.

Work. The ultimate four letter word. For years I've lamented that my type of work -- freelance writing -- means no free weekends, no free vacations, no down time spent any way I choose. For me, there's a deadline around every corner and you never say no to an opportunity for more of them.

My inner voice says be lucky you have these contracts at all. It tells me you're lucky and that the work won't always be there. It warns me don't burn bridges and say yes to anything that pays.

But there's a smaller voice that spoke up firmly and confidently those months ago. It said not all paychecks are the same. Not every offer is worth the money it brings through the door. Charge more, accept less, do only what makes you happy.

Cue the earth-shattering breakthrough moment.

Yes. My experience and skills are valuable, especially in a world where content is king and the message must be packaged in a way that motivates those who receive it.

All those words are fancy talk for what I'm seeing in my life: People will pay when present your product as valuable.

Shift!

I have clients instead of contracts. I spend less time writing articles and more time coaching people into identifying their business goals and coaxing out the way they'll connect with consumers. The end product is still content, but it has a face and it brings a relationship.

Fulfillment in a totally new way that allows me to leave my house and leave my computer behind, that leads to happier children, a more connected marriage, and the time to be creative.

Change is afoot, and I am soaking it in.

Today's post is part of Momalom's Five-for-Five. The topic is "Change."
Click over to join in!

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Rising

I'm living slightly under the surface. I can see the world a couple layers of murk, but I can't seem to break through to it just yet.

Mainly the work just piles up. This would be a good thing except the work isn't all paid. There's fundraising for my sister, volunteering in my normal gigs, my side project, and a feast-or-famine freelance career that is suprisingly feasty right now. The kids and the guy get my late afternoons and evenings, work gets everything else.

Some days I feel like I can't breathe. I fell asleep Saturday afternoon around 3pm after pulling double duty on Friday and Saturday for two different volunteer needs. I slept until 8am the next morning. That's more hours than I can count ... and I could've slept longer. Who does that?

And so. I'm here. I'm not finding much time to read anything, but I feel the loss of so many voices and so many experiences. It's tangible.

I'm slightly under the surface, but I'm rising. Slowly.

Update: I just turned down a 3-month contract for a tech writing job! I can't believe I did that. I started to take it, but I've done that contract before and it sucked the life out of me and I don't want to do anything else right now that doesn't engage my creative side. Holy cow. I just took a really deep breath of fresh(ening) air.

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On bringing home the bacon

Work is killing me. There, I said it.

There are kids underfoot during the day. Camp start and end times to make. Consulting meetings and networking lunches. Proposals to submit and invoices to fight over. Phone calls from people who tell you they want you to share your knowledge, but don't want to pay you for it. Deadlines and words and rampant commas. People seeing you make money, and then trying to cash in on your ideas.

Work. But not the kind that pays my bills. 

I freelance as a writer and am paid pretty lucratively when it comes down to hours spent meeting those deadlines. But I have a side project that's really taking off. It holds my heart and sucks up my time and energy, but doesn't pay much (or anything until recently).

If I could just get rid of those paying writing jobs, I know I could grow my side project into something spectacular. Or, if I could have full-time childcare, I know I could handle all the work coming my way without regularly working until 2am. Also known as: different variations of the same pipe dream.

And then there's the guilt about how I should just be happy to have a job when so many are struggling -- especially in my town where unemployment is in the double digits. Add more guilt about how I wish the kids were somewhere else during the day ... which ratchets up when I read so many bloggers posting about how glorious the long summer days are with their amazing and smart kiddos.

How do you work-at-home moms juggle security with entrepreneurism, parenting with needing time and space to work, fitting everything into a day? How do you parent the kids and chauffeur them to camp and get the groceries and clean the house and make the dinner and clean up after and nurture a marriage ... and still find the time to be a woman who brings home some tasty bacon?

There has to be a better way...

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Freedom

There's something is happening here (what it is ain't exactly clear...).

The battle to actually get paid for my work (you know, per the freelance contract I signed) has whittled me into a sharp, shiny point. Concurrently, opportunities are opening up on a local level that I couldn't have contemplated a year ago (or a month ago, honestly).

Freedom is an interesting concept right now. For me, now, it's knowing you can contribute financially to your family. Freedom to be home when necessary, to pick up dinner rather than whip it up from scratch, to grab an extra day of daycare here and there. But there's also freedom in deciding your contributions won't be financial. You save money by caring for your children, bargain shopping at the grocery store, consigning used clothes and toys, and supporting the people who make your house a home.

Or, potentially, the freedom of soaring in your own direction, to carve a new career out of something that you love and that you're good at. Something that started small but has become a huge part of your life. The freedom of getting paid for doing what you love.

And here's the crux for me. Is financial security worth performing a service that you loathe? If you aren't paying me in a timely manner and I have to fight and scratch for the money that I've already earned ... is it irresponsible to walk away -- and embark on opportunities that may not pay off in the long run, but that make my soul happy?

So there it is. The freedom I'm contemplating carries tremendous risk. It would require sacrifice and buckling down. A potentially wonderful, well-suited-to-me career change could mean no freedom at all. Or it could mean living the life I dream of.

I'm teetering on a line here and one foot has already lifted. Do I stop expecting to find joy and purpose in my job or do I use my freedom to jump?

How about you? Have you ever fought your inner desire for stability and taken a leap of faith that could affect your family? And here's my take on the freedom that comes with a second (or third or fourth) child.

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Cards by kids (aka busy work while I work)

Valentine's day has come and gone, but I thought I'd share these homemade Valentine's cards we made for Bella's teachers. You could easily use the same process for any day you'd like to commemorate or as an easy craft for kids who love to color, cut, and glue.

The first step was to choose pictures from Bella's many coloring books that fit the theme. Valentine's day is easy because you can add hearts to anything, but I tried to choose pages that seemed lovey or that evoked Bella's personality (and that didn't contain a scribble in some can't-work-around-it spot).

Then I allowed Bella to choose from the selected pages. We chose one page per teacher for a flat card, though you could do multiple pages for a folded card or larger sized piece of paper. After choosing her pages, Bella carefully colored each page using "cweative-tivity" to make the pages special.

After she finished the first page, I cut out the main image while Bella moved on to the next page. We spread this part out over a couple days so coloring didn't lose its fun. After the image was cut, Bella applied glue (using a stick) and mounted the image on a piece of construction or scrapbook paper (or any nice paper you have, you know, that doesn't have scribbles on it).

The final step was to write a message on the page and sign the card. I wrote the message (Happy Valentine's Day! in this case) and Bella signed her name (anywhere she wanted and any way she wanted). Obviously, you could go further and really fancy these up, but the ones we gave out really felt like Bella's Valentines -- and you don't want to lose that effect.

The best part is that I didn't have to sit with Bella and pull out all the stamps and stickers and paints and glitter. I didn't spend any extra money and I didn't stress out about perfection (by which I mean that I focused furiously on deadlines while she colored).

Her teachers were beaming when they received their special cards. It's a win-win-win.

***This post is part of Works for Me Wednesday and Wordful Wednesday.***

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What's this thing you call vacation?

Today marks the first day of my first time off since Labor Day. Technically, I still worked on Labor Day, so maybe it's my first time off since July 4th. Or maybe since this time last year.

That's the huge downside of working from home and for yourself. There's no door to shut or boundary to cross that signals a work day. Work happens when it happens, whether it's a Wednesday night or a Saturday morning, whether I'm in my "work chair" at home or hunched into a booth at a coffee shop at the beach.

That's the freelance life. It's also furiously and frantically typing to squeeze out 400 more words while one child taunts his baby sister (Don't touch my things! My picture is better than yours! Ooh, I'm going to my room ... and you can't come!) and the baby sister plots clumsy revenge (Haha, Javi! I broke your toy/threw away your picture!).

And so I am putting down work for four days. Of course, I'll still be working. The kids will be home fighting over everything they come into contact with, demanding my undivided attention, crying over ... anything they can find to cry over.

But! I'll get to play stay-at-home mom for four days rather than bust-my-ass-to-do-everything-mom. I'm looking forward to it (kinda).

What are your plans for the holiday? Will you be decked out in full armor to keep from being a casualty in the battles your warlords wage? (Please tell me I'm not the only one.)

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The aftermath

Last night was parade night. That means today I never got out of pajamas. I had planned to wear my "going out" pajamas to take Bella to preschool, but her tum-tum decided today was a good day to be upset so we both stayed home.

Side note #1: You know you're worn out when you're thankful that the runny butt happened today and not yesterday. I fully understand the meaning of 'God doesn't give you more than you can handle.' If runny butt had happened yesterday, I may have exploded into a thousand glittery pieces. End side note.

True to form, I didn't let in-pajamas-and-with-runny-butt keep BayBay and I down. We cleaned and organized the mess that's collected in the past week(s). We built a block city and painted people to live in it. Then we started the first layer of the peppermint bark we make every year.

The intention was to wait for Javi to get home from school and finish his homework and chores and then we'd complete the bark together. Instead, Bella snuck into Javi's room to destroy his lego creations and Javi kicked her out and they were both screaming in the stairwell and I tried to diffuse it until Bella wailed, "But I want walls like Javi has!"

Side note #2: When we moved in, a friend convinced me to paint Javi's room as a landscape. Since the moment he saw it, Javi has begged us to paint over the rolling hills and blue sky with "something for boys, not babies. Gah!!!" He loathes those walls. End side note.

You see where I'm going with this, right? Yes. The day after the parade, while dealing with steady diarrhea, exhaustion, and a semi-destroyed home, and after painting, building, and candy-making, the two kids and I embarked on a mission to swap their rooms. One room is almost put back together (needs the correct curtains, wall art, and tv hookup) and the other is a disaster, but both kids are pretty excited.

Yes, that's a glittery pink tinsel Christmas tree. She asked for it okay?! And the line
across the upper walls is Javi's art line. He said he's coming back for it so she'd better
not get any ideas. At least he warned her, right?

Moral of this story: I have a problem, dude. If there's a 12-step program, please direct me to it. But don't tell my kids. I think they like Mama just slightly manic.

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Hectic Holiday

I'm feeling a bit like this right now:

And here's why.

• I haven't been paid since October and the payroll department at the company I'm waiting on literally told me the check's in the mail. Direct quote.

• I have three work deadlines to finish in the next 13 days. Those deadlines amount to 30 pages, 24 sources, and hours of research.

• I'm coordinating my city's Christmas parade, which takes place on Monday night. This means my phone has rung off the hook and every free brain cell has been focused on the line up order, which dignitaries are riding in which car, who still needs to pay, and why the hell did I agree to do this?

• Someone told my husband that he had a 1950s housewife. He comes home and immediately gets huffy if he has to do anything but sit down and turn on the tv. I'm doing 18 things at once -- including micromanaging homework and chores, making sure we have dinner, keeping things clean, answering the damn phone, etc -- and he's pissed off that he has to check homework. (Like checking it is somehow worse than getting him to sit and do it.)

• On top of everything else, there's my little side project that I love dearly and enjoy doing. But I'm only one person and it's a challenge to do it well without a single back up. I have something in the works for it in January that may change the whole ballgame ... but until then, I am underneath it and barely hanging on.

So yeah. I'm one disgruntled elf right now. Actually, this image might be a better indication of how I'm feeling:

The good news is I don't give up and I don't quit. I may answer the phone "What can Brown do for you?" or not all. I may roll my eyes when the Mountain Man starts acting like he just fell off the mountain. And I may lose my ever-lovin' mind with this parade.

But I'm alive and kickin' and likely to forget all this angst long before all of it's resolved. Let's just say today I'm grateful I can't hold a grudge!

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Transformation

When left to their own devices because you have three deadlines in a week and a half but your check from last month is two weeks late (and your husband comments every single day that your check still hasn't arrived) so you can't afford to send either child to daycare or preschool or any other fun get-your-kids-out-of-your-hair activity, they may transform from sweet hummingbird enthusiasts to Cool Moe Funky Jav and his funky-fresh brother Bello but only for about 10 minutes because Bello will rebel and insist on a Tinkerbell costume and Funky Jav's eyeballs will roll all over the house right before he slams his door.

You have been warned.

***This post is part of Wordful Wednesday.***

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QOTD: Working from home, Santa, and broken glass

My kids (affectionately known as "the warlords") have been by my side every day of summer except for the glorious five days Javi was away for camp. Because of our frustratingly close proximity, I've experienced some pretty awesome quotes straight from sassy little mouths. Enjoy.

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After having to push two sets of hands, a deck of Scooby Doo cards, a grungy pink sandal, the Wii-mote, an empty Gatorade bottle, and miscellaneous crayons out of my face:
Me: "You have to stop shoving things in my face. I am AT WORK."
Bella: "No, you not at work. You AT HOME." (Imagine her moonface and saucer eyes.)
Javi: "Yeah. On the computer is not AT WORK." (Imagine his eyeballs rolling around on the floor.)

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After hearing me talk to a friend who watched the kids so I could go on the radio to talk about my side project:
Javi: "You were on the radio?" (Imagine pure confusion.)
Me: "Yep, this morning. That's why you're here."
Javi: "Like ON THE RADIO? Why? You're not famous. You don't even wear pants or brush your hair." (Imagine 9-year-old righteous indignation.)

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After hearing the sound of broken glass being moved around (because I put it in the middle of the table to keep it safe from the kids, but she found it while I was in the bathroom):
Me: "Bella May, if you don't leave that glass alone and go back to your tray to eat your breakfast, I'm going to spank your bum."
Bella: "Okay. Just not too hard, Mom!"

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After asking why Javi needed to write a letter to Santa in the middle of July:
Javi: "Time is running out, Mama. First I gotta get the letter to the mail box. You know mail runs so slow and this letter has to get all the way to the North Pole. Then Santa has to send me a letter back and then he has to call you to see what I can have. And then the elves have to make everything and then Santa has to deliver it."
Me: "Oh."

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After allowing both kids to make Christmas lists:
Me: "Remember to only ask for a few things you really want."
Javi: "That's what I did. I only asked for a real monkey and clothes to dress him in, a red PSP, an American flag electric guitar, an American flag laptop, and a golden statue of myself."
Me: "Those are the few things?"
Javi: "Yep."
Bella: "An I want a real monkey, too. And a real horse named 'Phonso and a real girl named PeePee.* And some gummies. And a movie featre."
Me: "Guess Santa's gonna be busy."
Javi: "Now do you see why we have to mail these now?" (Imagine pure 9-year-old exasperation.)

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While being forced to entertain herself and doing so by writing pretend letters:
Bella: "Dear Grandma. I love you very much. Dear Grandma. Come pick me up. If you need me, I'll call. Dear Grandma. If you need me to come pick you up, I will come. Dear Grandma. I will need you if I need you. Dear Grandma. If you want to pick me up, I will go."
Me: "Is Javi writing those for you?"
Bella: "No, I'm writing them in my brain."
Me: "That's too funny!"
Bella: "It is not funny. Dear PeePee. I love my Grandma. My mama is not funny. Come pick me up."
Me: "Do you want someone to come get you?"
Bella: "Duh, mama." (Imagine pure 3-year-old exasperation.)

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*My child has discovered The New Adventures of Pippi Longstocking and is already talking about being Pippi for Halloween (in between demands to be a wolf). I haven't had to watch Barbie in The Nutcracker in at least a week. That's one of the brightest spots of the summer!

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At the beach

We left the Mountain Man at home. He said he couldn't leave his chicks. I mean, who would catch them grasshoppers and dig up worms for them if he wasn't there? Who would treat them to a summer favorite?

What my MM will be seeing:

What I'll be seeing:

I would say I got the better end of the stick, except look at how Lulu2 loves her "daddy."

When he comes around she races over to him. He's in the swooning stage.

But we're at the beach. Eating fresh fruit delivered by our CSA that I've cleaned and cut up and packaged in containers perfect for beachy days. Floating down a lazy river. Watching my kids fight over the last piece of grilled shrimp (did I mention I don't eat seafood? I don't, but my kids will shank you for it). Likely getting even further behind on blog reading and commenting.

BUT. I just signed on for another freelance gig (yay!) and so I can afford to send my children away. And then I can get back to doing what I do best. Reading and commenting rather than working. Sounds good, right?

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When you work from home

I remember back in 2005 and earlier when I would wake up at 5:30 am every day. Shower, get dressed, wake up Javi and get him dressed, grab my packed lunch and some breakfast -- and then hit the road. I'd drop Javi at daycare and then spend the next 45 minutes driving down the quiet backroads that led from home to work.

The day would start when I sat down at my desk and it would end when I left it at 4:30 pm every week day. I'd answer the phone, "Good morning/afternoon, this is Kelly." I'd take lunch. I'd shut my office door when a personal call came in. I'd go on coffee breaks with coworkers or host the occasional gossip fest around my desk.

And it was drudgery, right? That slave-to-the-office thing was drudgery and my since-then schedule of waking up in time to get the kids where they need to be, throwing on something clean, making a to-go mug of cold chai latte, dropping the kids around town, and then returning home to power on the laptop and settle into the couch -- that's freedom, right? That's a "flexible schedule" that allows me to "set my own hours," right?

Confession: Working from home can really suck. Not only are you expected to produce the same amount of work you performed in the office, you have to do it with all the chaos and disruption of home life. And there are no coworkers to commiserate with or to break up the day with. It's just you -- your sense of timing, your ability to stick to a schedule, your commitment to deadlines, your desire to get things done.

But what happens when you have no desire or commitment or ability? What happens when you decide to spend only 10 minutes wading through email yet an hour passes before you know it? What happens when you finally try to plot deadlines on a calendar only to realize you must produce 36 pages of content in four days?

Which one is really drudgery? Which one gives you more real freedom?

I like to tell people that in my ideal world, I'd be an office manager for some company that's secure during recessions. I'd spend the morning making sure the office is happy and then I'd spend the afternoon working on anything I wanted on my cushy little office computer. I'd be well paid and well rested. There would always be a firm boundary between work and home because work can keep.

Instead, I'm living the career other people would love to have. In fact, everytime I tell someone that I work from home, they immediately ask what I do. After I tell them, they stare wistfully off into the horizon and say, "I wish I could find work to do at home."

I feel guilty for a bit and offer up thanks for the many blessings in my life. And then I think about those never-ending deadlines and the brain in my head that always promises me next month will be better. But it isn't. And it's not. So I should probably get started ... I only have four days.

Anyone else out there working from home? How do you make it happen?

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The office

excuse me while i lament:

i've been in this position since november but i feel like i'm still the new girl. they all frolic together and i just sit at my desk and type type type away.

it's my lack of entitlement and insecurity and my feelings of worthlessness etc etc ad nauseum. i am an extrovert, but only when comfortable. these people all know each other and they go bowling and attend baseball games and eachother's parties. they ride in together and herd out for cigarette breaks.

i feel i've no footing here. i know they won't fire me, but can't i just get comfy? can't i get it together enough to make more than one friend in an office of 30 20-30 somethings?

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Making friends

believe it or not i'm not very good at making friends.

no, really. people either like me or hate me. i'm not perky, i don't ask about your day, i don't give two flips about what your evening plans are.

i just sit back and observe. listening takes skill - talking in excess seems sloppy to me. i mean, why talk when you've got no content?

this is burdening me today because my office is restructuring. i'll be moving to another office with another officemate. not my homie kg. and this is the ONE person in this entire company i've officially labelled obnoxious.

he's awkward around me too. like everything i say is serious. like everything i say he has to consider and weigh and make a value call on. i don't care if you wanted to major in philosophy and got stuck with communications instead. i want you to see through your egg shells and be fucking normal.

and now i've got to spend 8 hours a day with him. actually, he's a chain smoker, so he spends a good 3 hours each day outside. plus he comes in at 10 and leaves at 7. i come in at 7:30 and leave at 4. not much of an overlap there.

yucky boys. so anyway. this office is on the other side of the building. you remember i'm new, right? well. i don't know smack about anyone over there so now the impetus is on me to be one of them. part of the 201 group. and i'm not good at group. or talking for the fun of it. at least not anymore.

don't get me wrong. in a nonwork environment i can talk your ear off. but, i spent two years in the hell that is the U.S. EPA where i wasn't allowed to talk to anyone for fear of losing my job. it's ingrained.

so, kiddos. what to do? smile and be perky and insincere and fake? be my normal self and risk being deemed "the loner"? we all know loners don't get promoted to upper management.

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