21 October 2010


About four months after I got married, I took a full time job working for a law firm - doing witness interviews and managing the organizational/logistical side of massive litigation.

I did this for two years - working anywhere from 45-60 hours each week.

I'm still tired.

And I don't really remember Eason from 3-15 months.

Guilt, much?

But anyway - when you work a traditional job, you usually get a lunch break, an afternoon cigarette break (or, in mine and a few of my coworkers' cases, what we dubbed a NSSB - a Non-Smoker's-Smoke-Break), all national holidays off, and a certain number of personal and sick days each year.

But nontraditional job holders have fewer of these rights that others have. No one swoops in at noon each day to take over my household duties - to teach the eldest, feed all three, fold the clothes, do the 17th load of dishes that week so far.

It's a travesty, but it's true.

So, at some point post my traditional job, well into my non-traditional one, I established for myself what I called a "lunch break, dammit" -

Each week day afternoon, I feed the kids lunch, and either tuck them in for a nap (both boys), or shuffle them off to reading time (bee), and then I fix my lunch, sit down in front of hulu.com, and take 30 minutes to an hour off.

No matter what the kitchen looks like.

No matter what the laundry situation is.

No matter how much school we've gotten done that day.

Well, because it makes me a lot more likely to want to kiss my husband when he gets home, rather than, you know, murder him in his sleep.
It takes away any resentment that has built up that morning.
It makes me happier.
It gives me an opportunity to breathe and refuel before the afternoon cranks back up.
It is good. Wait, it is awesome. And necessary.

And, because, even in my busiest time of working - when I was getting there at 6 am and leaving no earlier than 630 pm, no one in their right (or even wrong) mind, was expecting me to not eat lunch. And not just cram it in my mouth as I was running from file room to law office to a phone call with yet another witness who needs to change his testimony time - no - I got a lunch break. Occasionally, it was a lunch meeting, but most of the time it was a break.

It's right. It's fair. And it's normal. Why should my now-more-hours-a-day-than-any-other-job-save-perhaps-medical-residents job not afford me the same luxury?

And when else would I watch Community?

No comments:

Post a Comment