Once Upon A Time

I went back through my archives this evening looking for a specific post, and got totally sucked into both the memory of what my life used to be like, and the startling revelation that once upon a time, I used to write.  Most of what I wrote, quite honestly, was navel-gazing drivel.  But, in amongst those posts were a few of which I was proud.

For the last two years I have been immersed in my “old” world, the world of (non-family related) budget management, board management, personnel management, and crisis management.  When I took on the job, I (rather stupidly, upon reflection) did not set up any consistent system for childcare or for “housecare.”  As a result, I tried to be a full-time, stay-at-home parent and a full-time, totally engaged leader/manager.  This system did not work very well for anyone.  On the upside, my kids have learned to make their own breakfast (put some pancakes in the microwave, heat for 1 minute, try to sneak maple syrup while mom catches up on overnight email), my husband has learned to do his own laundry (buy new undergarments before a business trip, make liberal use of the hotel dry cleaning service), and my dog has learned, well, he hasn’t really learned anything because he is a dog, and not a particularly smart one at that.  I  stopped exercising, put on a significant number of pounds, and became a huge fan of internet shopping for EVERYTHING, including coffee and toilet paper.

I was lucky in that, for the most part, I could schedule my own hours and do the work that needed to get done via email at 6 am or midnight.  I was able to schedule about 50% of the meetings I needed to have while the kids were at school, and another 25% were done via conference call once they were in bed (or, at least, watching their evening allotment of television).  But, there were still at least a day or two a week that I was unable to be home for bedtime, or that the kids were forced to miss an after school activity to spend some quality time together doing homework underneath a conference table.

In less than six weeks, I will be (for the most part) done with this particular job.  And, I have nothing lined up to take its place.  I have contemplated taking a different job, and I have contemplated spending a year doing nothing beyond knitting and watching daytime TV.  I have even contemplated becoming a gym rat and making a concerted, several hour a day commitment to losing weight.

Instead, I think I am going to spend a year writing.  And, contemplating my navel.  Do you think I should get it pierced?

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