My mommy mind keeps slipping to that place where I think about all the stuff I want to accomplish. And I tickle that fancy of having other people to help me. Like the hired kind. You know the ones that rock stars and movie stars have. So talented, they need to hire help to do all the mundane stuff so they can practice their uber-talented craft.
I could start out with a part-time personal assistant, a housekeeper, and a cook/chef. Oh and a gardener and an interior decorator and part-time nanny. Martha Stewart style, I delegate the bejuices out of my life so I could sit around and be brilliant. Like I was the Hindu Goddess of Creation Durga, my multi-tasking brain and arms delegating away my time sucking vortex of tasks so my talent could shine for the entire world to appreciate.
Then I remember all the Dinks from the generation XYZpdq who started to have babies and didn’t know what to do with them. So they hired nannies. Rebecca De Mornay’s portrayal of the psycho nanny in The Hand That Rocks the Cradle still reflects the country’s guilt over the working mothers’ “abandonment” issues.
My friend was a nanny to some professionals and I felt sorry for the kids. Their guilt for leaving the children was palpable and they were then too permissive. The kids were headed toward Rottenville by no choice of their own. If you have to work, why feel guilty about it? If this is what needs to happen, then it’s “Kid, I love you and no, you can’t have a toy/sweet/video game.” And they say “OK, you’re in charge, not me”. Fake it until you make it is the best advice for parenting and business success.
OK, so here’s my ideal. I have the housekeeper, gardener, interior decorator, and cook on Tuesdays and Fridays, and then add an accountant every other Thursday. With a two-day a week stunt Nanny, I should have lots of time to devote to my necessary five hours a day social networking and the writing of brilliant pieces for my column the rest of my days I’m not off shopping because now I apparently have gee gobs of money that needs spending.
Because how much do you think all that labor might cost? I have no hope of making all that any time soon. So I need to either start saving, or ditch the current husband for a dental floss tycoon. If only money mattered to me that much, I’d have half of this in the bag. Or bags of money under my bed. All I have now is bags under my eyes. I really only seem to aspire to family movie night and multiple lists of someday to do’s. Sigh. But a girl can dream.