The short answer to the question "What do you do?" is "Too darn much." I'm sure a lot of people who know me would tell you that what I do is work, and it's true, I do work. I wasn't born into and didn't marry into the socio-economic spheres that would have allowed me not to. My total work-free maternity leave? Three days. True story.
But I would prefer it if work did not define me, which is precisely where I run into problems.
Work takes up a lot of my time and yet I don't want it to define who I am. That means I have to fill all of my other time with pursuits that fall outside of the realm of profitable employment: fashion... the creation of things... figuring out the whole working mother thing... keeping my home... caring for my family... learning new things... trying to stay in shape and reasonably attractive... etc.
It is, in a word, exhausting.
Here I am, having it all, running myself ragged and kind of loving every minute of it. Except when I'm hating it. I need money, yes, just like everyone else, but I'm not content to just earn it. I feel compelled to keep up the appearance of having at least some. I work hard on keeping my house tidy and sweet. I try to make what I can't afford or I bargain hunt until I get what I want.
Oh, that's something else I do. I get what I want. Even if takes forever, I get it. And what I want right now that I can't have is another baby. To be back home where I belong, even if I'm just working there instead of in some office somewhere. Can I achieve that? Sure, or I'll drive myself crazy. Whatever. That's kind of what this blog is about these days, though it started as a simple way to keep in touch with faraway family.
I've said it elsewhere, but I'll say it again: Thanks for sharing the journey with me and even bigger thanks for cheering me on. When you beautiful people take the time to give me a pat on the back, I feel like I could take on 15 evil robot trucks. And that's another true story.