Working Girl

Because don't all women dream of this life? The cubicle, the phosphorescent lights, the hair.

So I started a job on Monday. No, don't get all excited, all you other SAHWs and SAHMs. I don't get to look or act anything like Melanie Griffith. I'm working two hours each A.M. to tutor writing students online (we're talking wee-hours A.M. And yes, I'm strongly considering taking up coffee-drinking). This from my own computer in my own house. Okay, so if I don't shower before I hit the keyboard, maybe my hair does resemble that monstrosity above.

Anyway, I like it so far. It's an adjustment for the whole family, especially Papa, who's slogged through a few days of five o'clock bright-eyed-ness with S, who--unfortunately for him--also seems to be a morning person. (Guess who he inherited that from?) But I'm done by eight, and then I can hit the ground running and not have to think about doing anything related to tutoring until the next morning. We'll see how it goes. If we're all okay with it after the next few months, then I'll continue. If not, then I'll quit. Because, after all, real work happens here every day, every minute, even if I don't get a paycheck or a W-2. And I wouldn't trade my wifely or child-rearing vocations for anything.