Workin’ on livin’
I am lucky because at my job, everybody loves me. I don’t mean like when that lady at your office brings in cookies and everyone is like, “OMG I love you!” but actually they are all completely indifferent to her, except for an occasional stinging flash of pity, and are obviously just taking the cookies to be nice because she’s so lonely and needy and it’s easier than saying no.
No, no, no. At my job, it’s straight-up adoration, with not a little awe mixed in. I’m talking about THEY THINK I’M MAGIC THERE.
So what if they are four, six, and seven. And kind of neglected. I’ll take what I can get! I really like attention! Plus these l’il muffins are knife-in-heart cute.
They follow my manicures like the paparazzi!
BABY: Why you don’t put colors this time?
SAUCY: Last time it was dark red.
BABY: Why you take it off?
SAUCY: And before that it was light red.
GRACIE: It isn’t called light red. It’s called bright red.
SAUCY: Bright red.
GRACIE: Some people do black. I hope you never do black.
Sometimes they dream about me, and in the dreams we are at the toy store and I am buying them all the things they want. They cry when Nursemaid says it’s bathtime, because that means twenty minutes away from me. They attack me when I press the elevator button to go home. It’s kind of insane.
Would you like to know the secret to all this?
Fifteen hours a week. Basically, the perfect amount to work. The children stay delightful! I stay fascinating! We give it our all. Everybody wins.
Here’s what I was thinking: if I could similarly devote fifteen solid hours a week each to knitting and being married, my life would be perfect!
But that other stuff doesn’t pay like work does, ya know?
Sigh.
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