LAUREN MILLER

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A work-at-home-mom.  From the moment I brought Lil Mil home from the hospital and started working in earnest on Parallel, that’s what I wanted to be.  I loved the juggling act, the wearing of many hats, the constant readjusting and recalibrating to approach equilibrium. I loved it all, flourishing as I floundered. Partly because the effort itself was energizing.  But mostly because I was acutely aware of the alternative:  going back to work. Missing all those moments I was enjoying so much.
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But then I did go back to work, and I started missing not all of it, but a lot.  New words.  New feats of athletic prowess.  New discoveries and interests and fears.  
 And then, once more, I was home again, having sold a book and a TV pilot, and, therefore, having earned the right to spend my days writing. This time, though, I had help.  Full time help.  Which seemed to make sense, since I had a script rewrite (or five) to do and another book to write.  In fact, it seemed like the best of both worlds.  I was home, there if Lil Mil needed me, but luxuriously free to focus on my writing without distraction.  

Women with nannies know how this turned out.  I was no longer a WAHM.  I was a go-to-work mom whose office just happened to be in her basement.  I rarely spent time with Lil Mil during the day.  I might quit working early or start late, but my week days were work days.  I wasn’t “there” any more than I had been when I was sitting in my office at Big Law.

Which maybe would’ve been okay if I needed 40 hours to write.  But I didn’t.  30 was plenty.

A few weeks ago, the ridiculousness of this situation started really weighing on me.  What was I doing with full-time help?!?  I found myself killing time until my daughter got home from her adventures with nanny.  It was insanity.

So, finally, I did something about it.  Now, Lil Mil and I have Tuesday mornings and all day Wednesday together.  And this week, that meant a neighborhood tea party and cookie date and a Disney matinee.  I spent less time writing this week than I have in a while, but that’s okay, because I’m doing what I love again.  

Juggling.
A work-at-home-mom. From the moment I brought Lil Mil home from the hospital and started working in earnest on Parallel, that’s what I wanted to be. I loved the juggling act, the wearing of many hats, the constant readjusting and recalibrating to approach equilibrium. I loved it all, flourishing as I floundered. Partly because the effort itself was energizing. But mostly because I was acutely aware of the alternative: going back to work. Missing all those moments I was enjoying so much. .

But then I did go back to work, and I started missing not all of it, but a lot. New words. New feats of athletic prowess. New discoveries and interests and fears.

And then, once more, I was home again, having sold a book and a TV pilot, and, therefore, having earned the right to spend my days writing. This time, though, I had help. Full time help. Which seemed to make sense, since I had a script rewrite (or five) to do and another book to write. In fact, it seemed like the best of both worlds. I was home, there if Lil Mil needed me, but luxuriously free to focus on my writing without distraction. Women with nannies know how this turned out. I was no longer a WAHM. I was a go-to-work mom whose office just happened to be in her basement. I rarely spent time with Lil Mil during the day. I might quit working early or start late, but my week days were work days. I wasn’t “there” any more than I had been when I was sitting in my office at Big Law. Which maybe would’ve been okay if I needed 40 hours to write. But I didn’t. 30 was plenty. A few weeks ago, the ridiculousness of this situation started really weighing on me. What was I doing with full-time help?!? I found myself killing time until my daughter got home from her adventures with nanny. It was insanity. So, finally, I did something about it. Now, Lil Mil and I have Tuesday mornings and all day Wednesday together. And this week, that meant a neighborhood tea party and cookie date and a Disney matinee. I spent less time writing this week than I have in a while, but that’s okay, because I’m doing what I love again. Juggling.

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