How to Work From Home Without Losing Your Mind: A Working Mom's Guide to Snow Days

How to Work From Home Without Losing Your Mind: A Working Mom's Guide to Snow Days

We've certainly had our share of SNOW DAYS this year, and while the boys are peeking behind the curtains to make sure they haven't actually found themselves transplanted straight into heaven, I wait with held breath for the Noa-tears that came at our last bunker-down. So far she finds herself content.

I am not brave enough to test my faith in snow tires when the police are urging people not to drive. I am blessed to be able to work from home when the need arises; if I've got a computer, internet and Photoshop, I'm golden.

I consider myself an expert at this point -- the fourth day of not being able to of refusing to tempt fate since Christmas. I've got the system for getting things done!

1. Shower. Yes, no one is going to see you except the family who accepts you in every variation of your yuckiest self, and no, you're not going to be surprised by any unexpected visitors (have you looked out the window?) BUT there is something about a shower that kick-starts your system and tells your brain that today is a day for taking care of business like a boss!

2. Get Dressed. I'm not talking about pantyhose and pencil skirts* -- just don't get out of the shower and put your pajamas back on. Wear something that resembles clothing: yoga pants, slippers, your 12-year-old's hoodie.

3. Eat Your Wheaties.** Don't work on an empty stomach. Just don't. Even if you haven't gone to the store since last week and all you have is Raisin Bran.

4. Make a Speech. "Children, set down the video controllers and look at my face. I am not going in to work today, I am working from home. This means I am working. This means you will leave me alone unless you are bleeding. Are you listening? This means you will live in this room and I will live in that room and you will not bother me. I will make you lunch at lunch time but you will not come and ask me for lunch -- I will call you when it's ready. You will respect my space and respect my job. You will not make a mess. You may come and smile quietly at me if you need reassurance that I am still close. You may write me a love note expressing how you didn't realize what a wonderful and present parent I always am until I removed myself -- be sure to include many x's and o's. I appreciate your understanding. I love you so much it makes me giddy. Now leave me alone. You may return to your Super Smash Bros Brawl. Good day!"

5. Prepare Your Drink Of Choice. I always bring a coffee with me when I go to work, why would home be any different? {Though it was tea with honey for me today as I hang on the tail end of a head cold that nearly knocked me on my back.}

6. Sit By A Window. There's just something about sunlight...or the grey swirling light that is pretending to be daytime but looks, instead, like a dying flashlight diffused through cotton balls. If nothing else, constant glimpses out your window at Mean Old Winter will reaffirm your decision to stay home and dispel any guilt you might be feeling.

7. Make A List. If I can see what I'm expected to accomplish, I become highly motivated to get those things checked off. A job done is satisfying. Check.

8. Have A Joy-Project Waiting. The reward at the end of the work day is coming home to my family -- but what if I'm already there? I want to have something special to look forward to besides the End Of Day Speech***. Plan to break open a new book, play a game, have a bath, give an old record-player a make-over...


Yes, this is my ideal joy project! {Come back on Monday to see what became of my 1919 console}

Here's hoping tomorrow brings sunshine and clear roads. If not, may your Snow Day be productive and fulfilling.

* = I wear jeans to work.
** = I've never actually had Wheaties.
*** "Dear children, look at my face. I am proud of you. You only interrupted me 64 times which is a huge improvement from the 97 times of two weeks ago and while you refrained from asking for lunch, you did tell me a bajillion times that you were starving to death. That's not your fault -- I should have specified that there was to be absolutely no mention of food whatsoever. Thank you for not bleeding on the carpet and for not brushing your teeth and for fighting over your computer time. And thank you, most of all, for preparing supper while I worked...what? Oh. No love letters either? I might as well have gone to work."

 

First shared here

Alanna Rusnak writes honest blog posts reflecting her world as a mother of three, wife of one, employee of a church, and a lover of beauty over at SelfBinding Retrospect&

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