
I’m sitting at my desk eating a turkey sandwich on 7-grain bread with a smear of roasted red pepper hummus and a slice of Swiss cheese. It’s divine. I didn’t bother to cut it in half, though I am a devoted sandwich-cutter (as yesterday’s turkey sandwich, above, shows). The house is quiet, still even. My kids are both in school, and I am here alone, save the two crazy beagles who are taking their mid-day nap.
It’s so quiet.
I’ve worked at home for more than two years, since I left my wonderful staff job to freelance full time. And for the past two years, I have almost constantly had my kids underfoot. It was what I left my job for. But right now, I am grateful for the quiet.
Two years ago, I would rush and rush to drop Will off to school in the afternoons and hope that Paige would remain asleep long enough for me to get a little work done before she needed her afternoon dose of eat, play, diaper change, nap, repeat. Last year, we made it out on time to get to school more often than not, but after drop off would be a rush to get Paige into bed for her nap and prayers that she actually would take one.
But now it’s quiet, and I really like it — despite how unnerving it is. Today, I ate a whole turkey sandwich without anyone asking for a bite, or a glass of water, or cookies for dessert. Shortly, I might pick up and run to the store, just because I can. Or, perhaps I will clean (that doesn’t sound as fun though) or even kick back for a little relaxation. (More likely I will just keep working …)
Whatever it is, it feels so nice to have this little spot of time to myself. Although I love the happy chaos of my kids being constantly underfoot, I also need the quiet moments to recharge. That turkey sandwich was phenomenal … not necessarily because it was the best one ever (though it was really very tasty), but because it’s something I got to do on my own. And that is very good for everyone.
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