Self-employment hell?
This past Sunday was the child's birthday. He's 2.
But that isn't the self-employment hell part. No, actually, I like 2. Even the tantrums are cute, although it's hard not to laugh as a result. And nothing tops toddler hugs and kisses and imagination.
The hell comes from the toys he got at his party Saturday. Not all of them. Brio trains, for instance, don't make noise. Sadly, along with those, he also plays with the toys that make electronic bleeps and bloops, including a book about Clifford the Big Red Dog that has buttons on the side you can press for story sound effects. My boy is particularly fond of the Emily Elizabeth button: "CLIFford! CLIFford!" (I am sure the name "Clifford" will make it into at least one of my manuscripts this summer, not unlike "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.") Of course my husband just has to be working summer school this week. He'll be home again by the time the fascination with the new toys wears off, after all the damage to my brain has been done.
There is also the fact that the boy keeps trying to sit/ride on his dump trucks, which are too small for this purpose. And that his basketball hoop keeps breaking off its hanger thingy. Given the force the child applies to his slam dunks, I doubt suction cups would have been a solution. And that his shape sorter is REALLY REALLY LOUD when he goes rolling it or even dropping it along the floor. Oh, my head.
But all that stuff is only bad for writing. For bonding it's great. My boy loves playing basketball with me, for instance, which helps calm my fears of being an inadequate playmate. And the shape sorter actually occupies his attention along with being educational. He's very creative with his MegaBlocks towers, and he even started to try building a trestle for his trains.
Periodically I complain about how much I want an office, but I kinda like having my workspace in the living room. I like being able to turn around and see him doing something really creative with his toys. And wasn't the whole purpose of working at home to be there for him - so that he could run up to me to drag me away from work to play basketball?
There is peace to be found in responding to the interruptions. The noise (mostly) ceases to be annoying when I respond, largely because I'm involved with the activity creating it. So although I joke with others that it's self-employment hell, maybe in reality it's a call to create that "little piece of heaven" so often referred to in the media.
But that isn't the self-employment hell part. No, actually, I like 2. Even the tantrums are cute, although it's hard not to laugh as a result. And nothing tops toddler hugs and kisses and imagination.
The hell comes from the toys he got at his party Saturday. Not all of them. Brio trains, for instance, don't make noise. Sadly, along with those, he also plays with the toys that make electronic bleeps and bloops, including a book about Clifford the Big Red Dog that has buttons on the side you can press for story sound effects. My boy is particularly fond of the Emily Elizabeth button: "CLIFford! CLIFford!" (I am sure the name "Clifford" will make it into at least one of my manuscripts this summer, not unlike "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.") Of course my husband just has to be working summer school this week. He'll be home again by the time the fascination with the new toys wears off, after all the damage to my brain has been done.
There is also the fact that the boy keeps trying to sit/ride on his dump trucks, which are too small for this purpose. And that his basketball hoop keeps breaking off its hanger thingy. Given the force the child applies to his slam dunks, I doubt suction cups would have been a solution. And that his shape sorter is REALLY REALLY LOUD when he goes rolling it or even dropping it along the floor. Oh, my head.
But all that stuff is only bad for writing. For bonding it's great. My boy loves playing basketball with me, for instance, which helps calm my fears of being an inadequate playmate. And the shape sorter actually occupies his attention along with being educational. He's very creative with his MegaBlocks towers, and he even started to try building a trestle for his trains.
Periodically I complain about how much I want an office, but I kinda like having my workspace in the living room. I like being able to turn around and see him doing something really creative with his toys. And wasn't the whole purpose of working at home to be there for him - so that he could run up to me to drag me away from work to play basketball?
There is peace to be found in responding to the interruptions. The noise (mostly) ceases to be annoying when I respond, largely because I'm involved with the activity creating it. So although I joke with others that it's self-employment hell, maybe in reality it's a call to create that "little piece of heaven" so often referred to in the media.
posted by Christa M. Miller at 8:03 AM
4 Comments:
Those toys.... Yes. That's all I'm going to say about them. Really. I think. /struggling with self/
I think in the future we will not contribute to the glut, and just give you money for his college fund. Or maybe buy *one* addition to the Brio set.
As for playing with him and his toys -- I give you credit. That's more than I was ever able to manage.
The damage to your brain miraculously heals itself, as soon as the wee one is twice your size and off to college. :-(
Your post warmed my cockles. :)
I've done the room swapping thing to have privacy and I assure you, I do so much better being right back in the smack of household activity. More productive that way ;)
Dang it, Angela! I was trying to nurture a fantasy that I could make it all work! ;)
Actually, the problem is that I didn't buy a laptop when we needed a new computer. Didn't think I needed it. The boy and his toys were still quiet 6 months ago. I thought it would last. No, I *don't* have any experience with kids beyond this one.
One more thing to save for, anyway...
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