The past few days have been unusually busy. I'm catching up on orders from when we were away, unpacking, doing laundry and generally catching up on daily chores. It hasn't been much fun for the kids, or for me for that matter. It has been raining for two days and we've got cabin fever to boot. This morning I woke up stressed and more than a little grouchy. I was up late working on orders, and only got through about half of what I needed to do. So this morning, once again, I sat and talked with the kids about our day.
"It won't always be this busy," I explained. "We just need to get through today and then things will be more normal around here."
They look at me skeptically, and wander off to play for a bit together. I sit down in my studio to make some orders, with a little pit in my stomach about the whole balance of working with the kids around. I feel that old mother-guilt creeping up on me. I try to focus on the positive, think about how good working is for me, how I need to keep myself occupied and happy for everyone's sake. How the little extra money is important. But it is hard.
Finn wanders in, and leans on my arm while I'm working. "Momma?" he says, "when you are done working, will you push me on the swings?"
"Of course I will, hon. Thanks for asking so nicely." But I feel that little sting of guilt again.
He is quiet for another minute or two, and then says, "Momma? When I grow up, can I be an artist like you?"
My heart swells. "If that is what you want, of course you can. I think you'd be a great artist."
"YAY!" He throws his little arms up in the air. "I CAN BE AN ARTIST! Sissy guess what? I can be an artist!"
About an hour goes by, and Greta shuffles in, looking sad. "What's up?" I ask.
"Do you ever wish you weren't so famous?" she asks.
It takes every ounce of willpower I have not to chuckle, or make a sarcastic remark. OH, yes. This FAME is just UNBEARABLE.
"Do you mean that you wish I wasn't so busy? Is that what you mean?"
"Well, yes. If you weren't a famous beader, then you would have more time to play."
"That is true. But its my job, and it is something I like to do, too."
"I know," she says. "And jobs make money. And money means more toys for me and Finn. And toys make us happy, so it all works out."
Yes, yes it does, I think. Sometimes it all works out.
When Greta was about 4, my husband was leaving in the morning to go to work, and she was crying because she didn't want him to leave. He picked her up, hugged her and said, "I miss you too, when I'm at work. But I have to go to work to make money."
"Money?" she sniffed.
"Yes, to buy things like food, and to pay for the house we live in."
"Oh," she said. "And to buy delicious candy???"
Now, when he leaves for work and they feel sad, he says "I'm off to make money to buy delicious candy!!" and we all laugh.
So it really is all about toys and delicious candy in the end. And what could be better than that?