I’ve started a part time job.
Gee-whiz, if I had known it would be like this—I would have found one a long time ago.
And, I’m not so sure it is all about the actual job. Don’t get me wrong, I love what I’m doing because it combines a lot of different aspects of me—my Catholic Faith, teaching children, learning (mostly my own learning as I delve into the Gospels and Catholic teaching). The people I work with are generous, funny, interesting, smart and life-giving. They are good people.
Really, though, I think that the most unexpected perk of my job is my office.
I can almost stretch my arms across and touch each of the four sides. The yellow color is a little bright–the color of Aspen on a very bright Colorado fall day. The previous resident of this office had it beautifully decorated–pictures, plants and inspirational quotes. I have nails in the wall. I haven’t even hung up a picture—and as nearly sacrilegious as this sounds, I don’t even have a picture of my family there!
But, it is my space. My pens, my scissors, my tape—ok, it is really the parish’s and they are gracious enough to let me use these items (WHICH BY THE WAY I CAN NEVER FIND IN MY OWN HOUSE). These items are exactly where I left them. And that sneaky thief that haunts my house, he or she goes by the name, “NOT ME”, has not discovered my new locale. And–get this–THE DOOR LOCKS! (I know, I almost sound. . .well, giddy!)
For the past eight years I have shared ALL my spaces with other people. I’ve shared the bedroom with my husband and a revolving door of children who are sick, waking from a nightmare or just “I-want-to-sleep-with-mom.”
At home my laptop sits on the dinning room table and although my husband constantly admonishes me for letting the children access to it, it has become public property. There is no way I can keep putting it away and taking it out. And, honestly, I want them to use the computer but I also want to know where they are going on it.
My husband works from home and has his own office. And although the boundaries are often permeated by wife and children, it is still a room that is considered just his and he can yell things like, “GET OUT OF MY OFFICE!”
I get it.
I feel the same about my bed and bathroom and most mornings you’ll hear me yelling (mostly to myself), “WHY CAN’T I JUST HAVE A DRY TOWEL?!”
Which leads me to why I’m finishing this particular blog at 6 am in the morning. The two year old ventured down at who knows what time and climbed into bed between me and Scott, and although we have a king-sized bed, I was on the edge of it until he woke up yelling, “MOVE MOM!”
Tomorrow I go back to my part time job. I’m not saving the world, it has no benefits. . .but it comes with my own office and I’m the only one in my family with a key to it!