Not Baby Crazy

I am not a baby crazy newlywed. I am a newlywed who occasionally (read: all the time) considers having a baby. I'm not at the point of longing for the tiny fingers and toes or thinking about outfitting a nursery. I ponder what it would be like to rework my existing life to accommodate for another one. I think they call this "selfish".

Today was not one of those days that a baby would have "fit into". It was a work from home day where I sit around, usually in my pajamas, and stare at a computer screen for hours. I give myself headaches from too many uninterrupted hours at the computer box. I was in my home office for 8 hours with a few potty breaks. I did some laundry. It's my "me" day. My "don't bother me" day. Even the dogs know to let me be. They quietly wait for me to show some sign of life before reminding me that they have not yet mastered using the toilet.

I know that there is no such things as 8 hours of uninterrupted work at home when you have a not-school-age kid.

Right now, I have three great loves in my life: my husband, my family (whom I work with) and my job. These are powerful, unbreakable bonds. I cannot tell you how many times my husband has to bring me back from some work-induced brain overload. He is a saint about it. I don't think a baby would be so understanding.

Do I have to make the concious decision that work has to be less important once there is another life involved? Or is there a way to make it all work? I guess I won't know until we're there. I hate to make it sound like my job is everything. It most certainly is not. I just consider myself to be terribly lucky to have a job that I not only like, but love. I love getting up to go to work in the morning. Often, we work 12-hour days. I am fortunate enough to work with my parents and brother, so most days are fun. I don't have to worry about offending my secretary, because he's my brother and he can suck it up. Long hours are perfectly okay when you are spending them with people who you would probably be with anyway. Lightning like that certainly doesn't strike twice.

This (hypothetical) kid better be worth it. My job will never be a rebellious teenager who tells me that I'm the worst manager ever. Odds are, this supposed (again, hypothetical) bundle of joy will at some point. Also, my job's skirt is never to short, and my office doesn't have a thing for scream-o rock. I don't have to worry about my work eating crayons or hanging out with the wrong crowd. I am the crowd, and I'm awesome.