please I want to work on this blog with you

My son is on my lap, trying to type “letters” as I write this. “I’m working on my blog,” I tell him as if this will get him to go and play with his toys so I can get a few minutes of peace.

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“Please I want to work on this blog with you,” he says. He puts his head on my hands so I can’t type. Then the dogs come over to see what’s going on. Some days I feel like nothing will ever get done with everyone craving my attention. Even when I throw my toddler across the bed, he’s back in a millisecond, “You can’t do that, mama.”

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I love giving my family attention. But I don’t know when to stop. When I try to get anything done, I feel guilty about it. And they let me know how much it affects them when I’m not catering to their needs. I wish I could have a couple hours a day to myself to get work done. But it never works out that way. Something comes up. Somebody needs something. We need to run an errand that ends up taking most of the day. Most days it never ends.

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Why do I feel like I had more time when I worked full-time (before having a child)? When my mother-in-law tells me that I should be able to handle things because “you don’t have a real job” my skin crawls. She doesn’t mean it as an insult because she has raised a family herself. But some days to make this family work is like having three full-time jobs.  Even though I have trouble admitting it to myself but being a freelancer, a mom and wife—these are three full-time jobs!

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