Work/Life Wobbles

I made her that cookie.

November just kind of whipped by. If you frequent this corner of the internet (or any other corner of the internet which I frequent) you might have noticed that I went a little bit off the grid around Lindsey’s wedding and never really managed to regain my footing on said grid until sometime last week. The grid wobbles. Or maybe my life wobbles. Either way, as I try to navigate between online work, offline work, and that obtuse thing we call “real life” I’m more and more convinced that “balance” is a really deceptive way to describe this dance we do.

It doesn’t feel balanced. It almost never does. It feels like a drunken ride on the mechanical bull where we’re really just trying to hang on for eight seconds and not puke. Ever since connectivity went into overdrive and the work week ceased to end it feels like balls are inevitably dropped and often the best we can do is to make sure that we hang on to the balls that matter most. And now it feels suspiciously like I’m talking about my husband’s balls. Is that just me?

Come January I’ll be speaking on a panel about Work/Life Balance in the professional blogosphere. I’m feeling both horribly underqualified and like the perfect subject for dissection. It’s really really difficult to be a parent and a [insert professional goals here]. Some days it’s fulfilling and awesome and some days it’s heavy and sucks.

I want to take a romantic vacation with my husband. I want to go direct my movie on a shoestring budget. I want to have another baby. I want to volunteer to chair a committee for the school carnival. I want to scream. But mostly, I just want a nap.

It helps me to toss the whole idea of balance — along with my arsenal of self-flaggelation tools —  out the window and try this thing another way. This is uncharted territory this world we’re living in. It’s crazy and scary and shrinking and getting bigger by the minute, but it’s also full of possibility and it’s awesome. So if I fall off the map for a minute because that part of it hasn’t been written yet, I think that’s okay. I think it’s all in the name of progress, really. L’chaim. To Life.

Feed Me Seymour