The Gift of Choice

I have been hard pressed to understand exactly why my weekends have created a small amount of anxiety within me.

Yes, I know that it is very simple to pinpoint the physical reasons. I am juggling a few too many responsibilities and the weekend seems to be catch up time. If it isn't one thing, it is another. My time is consumed.

But as I wandered through this morning with only precious few minutes of it left before my daycare family starts arriving, there is a difference in the air this morning. I do not have to leave the house today. Unless I choose to do so.

Chances are very, very high that I will make the choice to wander outside the confines of life-at-home. I love taking my little people out for a walk. We are limited as to what we can do and how far we can go. But we have the choice to go (thank you, Spring).

The difference about my weekends is the lack of choice. I must leave the house by a specific time. It doesn't matter how much or how little that I have to do before that predestined time rolls around, I find at least three more things to do before I run out the door. I have adopted the bad habit of arriving five minutes late to any and all weekend obligations. It is a sickness. It is like I am internally fighting this weekend-must-do-mentality by being late. As if my time is more important than someone else's. As I wrote the words, I heard my inner voice saying, "On the weekend?? It is ..."

I work for friends. They would completely and totally understand if I called them up at the last minute and cancelled. So showing up five minutes late is not the extreme faux pas that my mother has ingrained in me. But my mom has taught me well. Five minutes ... thirty minutes ... or not showing up at all. It is all a sign of disrespect. That is not the message that I am trying to send when I wander in five minutes late to each and every Saturday or Sunday morning job that I have.

Perhaps that five minutes buys me the gift of 'choice'. I do choose to go. But on my own conditions .... Nope. I'm not buying that either. The minute that I must do something, it changes my mind set.

Each and every time I work at any of the above jobs, once I am there I am more than happy to take on whatever job is set out before me. In fact, yesterday was almost fun. It was enjoyable. Thoroughly. At no point after I headed the car in towards the day I was about to live, did I have a moment of regret or foreboding. I want to do this.

I chatted with my 'Sunday Boss' yesterday and she is more than a little bit accommodating when it comes to making this work. As time goes on, I will be able to do more from home and the need to go out to her place will lessen. I don't know if that is a good thing or not. Because my home is already my 7:30 - 5:30, Monday to Friday place-of-employment. Any time that I have had extra bookkeeping to do from home, I do with the greatest of effort. I don't like mixing my scheduled down-time at home with another job. I do sort of enjoy the physical distance that separates me from my work.

So ... the reality is that given a choice, I would probably choose to work outside of my home verses having work bully its way into my weekend. At home.

But no matter which way I slice and dice it, as usual ... it is Monday morning and I am beyond grateful that my work is coming to me.

Given a choice? I choose to work from home. Doing what I am doing works best for me right now. Even when my out-of-home work obligations infringe upon the weekend ... it simply makes Monday morning feel better than ever.

When you wake up on a Monday morning and feel gratitude for the day and week ahead of you ... you know that you have chosen well. You are where you are meant to be. At least for now.