I totally give lip service to the concept that staying at home with the kids is hard work. But some days, when I'm sitting by the pool with three mommy friends drinking our Bud Lights while the kids hoot and holler and do whatever kids do, well on those days, I have to admit I feel like I might be pulling the wool over everyone's eyes.
Honestly, how is this hard work?
Yes, there's the laundry, carpooling, shopping and homework that has to be managed. Still, it's not like they're babies. I'm not changing diapers or making sure no one tumbles down the stairs. My kids are seven and nine. If they were dogs they'd be well into middle age. As it is, they're pretty darn self-sufficient.
It wasn't until the kids went to Camp Grandma and Grandpa last week that I had the sudden realization, much like Virginia about Santa Claus, that, Yes Johanna, being a stay at home mom is hard work.
On the first day the kids were gone I worked on Losing Hope until I hit my 2K word goal. Then I had a two hour conference call about something exciting that might or might not be happening with Losing Beauty. A friend called. Could I meet her at Starbucks. I could, because it was still only 1:00. Seriously? I had to look at my watch a couple of times because that didn't seem quite right. Normally, it would be much later.
Afterwards, I went home and did the social networking stuff. And there was still time for yoga. When my husband came home he found me editing the work I'd started that morning. Yes, it's so unbelievable it needs to be written again. I was editing work I'd started that morning! We had dinner and I called my mom and talked to the kids.
"It's funny," I told her after she'd wrested control of the phone from Child #2. "I worked all day long and got so much done and I'm not even tired."
She laughed. "We've been busy, busy, busy here," she said. "But I can't say we've gotten anything done."
That's when it hit me. All that stuff I do with my kids, the packing for the pool, the homework, the cooking of breakfast, lunch and dinner, the laundry, the reminding to use nice manners, the pep talks, the snuggles, the listening to them talk, the refereeing of arguments, the making sure they take their vitamins, the worrying about [honestly, just pick something and fill in the blank because I worry about it all]. All of that is hard work. It's the reason why, most nights by 10:30, I can barely keep my eyes open.
So today I'm reaffirming something for myself (and anyone else who might have been doubting the genuine value of what they do). Staying at home is a job. It's hard work, even if sometimes you lose track of why or *gasp* have fun. Don't underestimate the energy it takes to stay home. And don't get down on yourself if you don't finish everything on your to-do list. There will always be tomorrow, or the next day, or maybe the day after you pack everyone up and send them off to college.
For my fortieth birthday, my darling husband surprised me with a week in Venice...romantic, non? One romantic gesture deserves another, so while we're gone I'm turning off the computer, putting down my iphone and ignoring social media so that I can focus on the man I love. 
Maybe they’re happy to raise awareness about their brand. Or maybe they’re annoyed at the idea of scavengers emptying the shelves and reselling for their own profit. I tried to imagine how I’d feel if the same thing happened with Losing Beauty. I’d be thrilled, of course, to have people lining up at 5:00 a.m. to buy autographed copies of my book but I’m not sure how I’d feel if, at the end of the day, I found all those same books on Ebay for quadruple the price.
When that happens do you ever spend minutes thinking "but I thought tomorrow was the 13th??" Do you then get up and check the calendar and then go back and check your blog again only to realize that tomorrow is, in fact, the 13th but it's the 13th of September NOT August?
In fact, it was the time factor, not disciplinary measures published in the local bar journal, that played the biggest role in my retreat from the practice of law. Quick aside here, disciplinary measures make up my husband's favorite bedtime reading material. If he finds someone who acted in a particularly irresponsible way he'll even read it out loud. I know. I can tell you're wildly jealous of our romantic evenings but sorry to say, he's all mine! The rest of you will have to find your own man to whisper sweet nothings, aka, disciplinary hearings into your ears. 
Okay, that wasn't such a quick aside. Getting back to my mother's sage advice and my transition from corporate lawyer to writer. From the outside looking in, being a writer sounds dreamy. Work from home, be creative, wear flowy dresses while reading long passages out loud to an empty living room. Like most things, the reality is a little different from the dream. While I do work at home and get to make up stories, I'm discovering it can still be stressful. There are the days when no words come to my head. There are also the days when lots of words come to my head but they're for another book. With the publication and impending print copy of Losing Beauty looming, there are publicity requirements. My publisher wants to know how far I've gotten on Losing Hope and will there be a third book in the series and, if so, what's it called. 
Me, I go on-line with a different purpose. Even though I downplay it in my blog, one of the main reasons I spend time blogging, twittering and G+ing is to sell books. There you have it! I've given you a sneak peek inside the core of my mercenary soul. Of course, the by-product of all the time spent on-line is I've discovered an amazing, wonderful,supportive, fabulous, superb group of friends. Even though it's unlikely I'll meet more than a handful of them, I still think of them that way. Friends!
It's a book by Ann Patchett. It also happens to be what I'm reading for book club this month. It's a story of the friendship that develops between two writers, Ann Patchett and Lucy Grealy. I love it, but I'm a writer and so this kind of story is right up my alley. I can't wait to hear what the rest of my book club thinks. More importantly, and the reason I wanted to talk about the book is because, in the space of a couple sentences Ms. Patchett has set me free. She discusses the dread most writers feel before they begin to write. The way they will do almost anything (dishes, laundry, organize their desk, talk on the phone) before they finally drag themselves down to the dirty business of writing. 
In a model of efficiency, that was an endless source of delight to Rach our efficiency expert, we managed to see the "Welcome to Yellowstone" movie, hit a ranger talk and be on scene for Old Faithful's spout in quick succession. What was even more impressive, this all happened without any bathroom breaks--a happy event for the husbands, who have taken to grumbling, "Can't someone put a cork in those kids?" at each rest stop.
Teeth lost: One
Lunch is at Roosters in Pendleton. We couldn’t have invented a more perfect place if we tried. It’s big with a playhouse inside for the kids. Every meal comes with dessert. The marionberry cobbler is crazy good.
Tomorrow we leave for Yellowstone. 
It's entirely possible that cars will break down. I would bet good money that kids will break down. We may see bears or wolves. Hopefully no one will be attacked. We've rented a big house together (very Big Love except with more than one husband). The children have all been warned if they're naughty I will blog about them. And I will. It's punishment on a grander scale than usual, general effectiveness remains to be seen. 
In case you have no idea what I'm talking about, let me explain. Off List is the phenomonen that occurs when I call my husband and say, "Would you mind picking up a gallon of milk and a loaf of bread on the way home from work." He says, "No problem," and when he comes home he has the requested gallon of milk, loaf of bread and perhaps a $600 tent. 
