Of all of the challenges in working part time, time management is my biggest hurdle. I thought I was pretty good at managing my time. Sure, I've done the out-of-breath-heart-pounding panicked walk across campus to slide a term paper under the professor's door one minute before the final cutoff. But that wasn't a time management issue; it was a perfection issue. There just wasn't enough time to get it perfect.
So, I've been a bit bamboozled as to why time management is more difficult working part time than it was when I was constantly under the crushing press of work. I have more time now, so it should easier to manage, right?
Here's the thing: when I worked full time, I could cheat on time management. I could find an extra 15 minutes to online bill pay; I could sneak away once in a while to pick up dry cleaning and tag the cars. Now, I cram a day's worth of work into four hours, and after that, my time belongs to my kids, my laundry, my dirty dishes, and what's left of my career.
As a lawyer, I'm used to working quickly. I'm efficient (to my detriment and the detriment of my billable hour total). At work, I run on high octane and idle at about 2500 rpm. As soon as I scan my parking card out of the garage, I have to force a shift into low gear. It's to my benefit if it takes us 30 minutes to get home from school because what will we do when we get home? The longer I can take to change diapers, change shoes, and get coats on to go outside, the longer I get to stay in climate controlled comfort. At work, I work for a finished product. It's not about the process. At home, it's all about the process. My kids function better when I move slowly. I function better when I move slowly. I remember the sippy cups, the snacks, the blankets, backpacks, lunch boxes, and nap mats. Everyone is happier when that happens.
The shift from high to low gear has been an adjustment. I often have to remind myself not to hurry. When RJ was about two, I taught him to sing, "Have patience, have patience, don't be in such a hurry, have patience, have patience, right now." He reminds me of this frequently. Most mornings, we're not running late, but most mornings, he asks me, "Mommy, are we late? Why are you mad?" I'm not mad. I just forget to shift to low gear sometimes.
Of course, in my particular situation, I'm not always clearly at work or at home. The two blend. Not seamlessly, but they blend. Like glitter in water. A whirling tornado of activity that can settle or spin up in an instant.
When I get home most afternoons, I can get RJ to nap. GiGi, on the other hand, has become my time manager. I put her in her crib and the race is on. The pantie race (or rather, the Huggie race, but we're potty training and thinking positively in terms of panties right now).
GiGi used to take off her shoes at every instance. She leaves those on now, but I wish she'd stayed focused on the tennies. Now, I keep one eye on the monitor every afternoon while I catch up on email and try to close out my day. I have exactly as long as her pants last. First, she empties the crib of all toys. Then the blankets. Then, after careful consideration, she tosses Bug Bug (her blankie). After Bug Bug, there's only one way she's headed. Sometimes the race takes an hour, and I can get a lot of work done before I see a shiny bare bottom on the monitor. Some days, it takes 10 minutes. One thing is constant. The moment I see a bare booty, the pantie race is over. Mommy's time has been managed. Because, we're potty training, not potty trained.
Time management has taken on a whole new meaning with this part time gig. Some days I win the race. Others, I'm the loser (with the laundry to prove it). But, win or lose, for now it works, and someday, I'll miss the days of the pantie race.
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