Outside of mothering my sweet kiddos, nurturing my nest, and welcoming my dear husband home from work while wearing a starched apron and fresh lipstick (ha, ha), I do have another job.
I help prepare grant applications to the National Institutes of Health for a small biotechnology company.
I do it from home.
In my pajamas.
With dried toothpaste in the corners of my mouth.
(I'm so glad my boss doesn't Skype me.)
The company's grants are due on April 5, August 5, and December 5 every year. The two weeks prior to those dates are hectic for me. I used to have a wonderful nanny who would come in and look after the boys so I could talk to high-ranking corporate people without Timothy yelling, "Mommeeeeeeeeeee, can you come wipe my bottom?" in the background. But I was spending too much time away from my kids, so now I just work in concentrated doses...
Without a nanny.
I very much appreciate the indisputable fact that many women do much harder things in life. But in my narrow trench of life experience, I've decided that working from home (with small children and no childcare) should be an Olympic event.
Today, as I was finishing up work on budgets and calculating long trails of large numbers, Timothy sat nearby and shouted, "2 plus 2 is 4! 3 plus 1 is 4! 4 minus 2 is 2!"
You never want to discourage kids from practicing arithmetic, but my ability to focus on my own calculations was trashed.
On the other side of the house, Matthew was painting my beloved calculator with chocolate milk. And that was after he dunked it in the dogs' water.
Matthew is potty-training. As he was playing in the living room, the sound of splattering liquid filled the air, followed by a sing-song "Sawvy (sorry), Mommy." How could I possibly be mad at the little fellow? Never mind that he had soaked through the following pairs of character underwear in the last 3 hours: Lightning McQueen, Mr. Incredible, Nemo, and Toy Story. It's like a little Pixar reunion in the dirty clothes hamper.
During my most hair-raising grant submission period in December of 2009, Matthew was a curious 9 month old. He was into everything. It's very stressful as I near the 5 PM deadline because all parts of the grant proposal must be uploaded and perfectly in place. There's no grace period. And people at the home office were waiting on me. (I can't stand for anyone to be waiting on me, especially while the clock is ticking.) On December 5th, 2009, it was 4:38 PM. Trying to finish up the near million dollar budget, feeling like my hair was turning white all at once, I looked down and noticed Matthew teething on my printer cord. In utter desperation, I strapped him into the carseat his big brother had just grown out of, popped a pacifier in his mouth, and prayed he'd be happy for 10 more minutes.
He was. There's my trusty calculator. Love that thing. I emailed the documents to the office with 3 minutes to spare.
*Sigh*. Currently, my house looks like a Tinker Toy bomb went off.
Yes. Things are a little hectic today, but not too bad, otherwise I'd never be writing this post.
But I have been really busy for the past few days. Here's what we've been eating:
Macaroni and Cheese.
Speaking of marshmallows, did you know that if you are on the phone for business matters (or with a girlfriend who is spilling her heart to you) and you know that your kids are about to start screaming, if you give them marshmallows, they will stop screaming almost instantly? I need to add marshmallows to my "Kids in the Kitchen" page.
Well, it's 2:29 PM and I haven't brushed my teeth yet. Gag. I know you've all had days like this, too. Maybe I can reclaim my kitchen table from laptops, calculators, and excel spreadsheets this weekend and crank out something yummy!
But more than likely, I'll be doing laundry.
Talk to you dearies very soon,