The Internet is positively rife with tips, ebooks, and courses that promise to teach you how to make money working from home. It’s a booming business, and with good reason. Who wouldn’t relish the idea of never again having to don heels and fight traffic in order to make a living?
Stay at home moms are a target audience for a lot of these work-from-home gurus. In many cases we’re bored (Please! No more Candyland!), broke, and eager to put our “free time”, not to mention our minds, to work at something other than refereeing yet another sibling squabble or ensuring that each sippy cup has exactly the same amount of juice.
After all, no matter how sleep deprived we may be now, once upon a time we were rockstars. We created things, we ran businesses, we managed budgets, and um… WE GOT PAID.
Then we had kids. The kids were WONDERFUL. We loved
almost every moment and we were so glad that we were able to watch them grow millimeter by millimeter each and every day that we almost didn’t mind cleaning up the things they created, and running them around town, and managing a much tighter budget.
“But what if you could have it all?” the Internet asks.
What if you could stay home with your kids and get paid to work and never even have to put on a bra?
That’s my life lately (except the bra bit – after five kids I practically sleep in my bra).
After thirteen years spent “only” raising five kids and teaching piano lessons, I started freelance writing in September.
It’s been a whirlwind and here’s what I’ve gleaned so far:
- “I’m going to do some work now,” is evidently Preschool for “This would be a great time for you to show me that totally unrehearsed forty-five-minute dance routine you just came up with.”
- My homeschooler doesn’t grasp new algebraic processes more quickly just because I have a client deadline. I’ve asked her to work on this; we’ll see how it goes.
- It is totally possible to get sick of pizza and Stouffer’s macaroni and cheese. It is not possible, however, to type and cook at the same time. You’re right, Nana, I should use my crockpot.
- Coming up with anything marginally coherent while listening to strains of Caillou drifting through the door is a skill not available to mere mortals. I think Caillou is a plot to take down freelancing parents everywhere. Don’t believe me? Just watch:
- The amount of toilet paper stuffed in the potty is directly proportional to how much work you have to get done.
- Feedback is so much more enjoyable when you’re being paid to hear it. I think this may usher in a new program at my house: I’ll listen to you bitch if you pay me a dollar first. My time is valuable, yo.
- I’m smarter than I thought, but unfortunately not quite as smart as I remember being. I get psyched when I figure out something new, only to be daunted by how much new stuff I’ve got to figure out.
- It is wonderful to be your own boss, makes it so easy to get along with Management. I do, however, think Management should institute a more stringent Netflix policy.
- If you don’t take a shower first thing in the morning you risk showing up to school pick-up with bed head and pajama bottoms.
- It doesn’t matter how much you work, if you are home, your kids will refuse to believe you have a job. You’re still the go-to for every snack request, every scraped knee, every great idea. That might be the best part of all.