The,Office,Door,One,the,pleasu family The Office Door

A lot of women avoid wearing nice clothes when they getpregnant because they believe that they look fat or ugly. You know that there’snothing more beautiful than a pregnant woman glowing and smiling, so youshouldn’t hide your body during p Raising a family can be challenging and stressful at times. However, the common goals and emotional, financial, and physical investments made can be a common bond between husband and wife. One that compliments their marriage relationship.Of

One of the pleasures ofworking at home is the commute.On an average day, I wanderdownstairs for breakfast, take Cai out to meet either the school bus or thecamp bus - depending on the season - and return to the kitchen for a cup ofcoffee. Then I rev up my feet and go back upstairs to begin my work day...Paradoxically, one of theless-than-pleasurable aspects of working at home is that the office isaccessible 24/7, 365...Sure, it's wonderful tohave it all at my fingertips. It's very cool to look out my window and seewhat's popping in the new lily bed in the summer or to watch the snow fallingin winter. I'd be the last to complain about having 'round the clock access toa (normally) well-stocked fridge. The rent ain't bad, either, and on most days,my landlord - you know, the guy who wears my shoes - is a pretty reasonablefellow....Except when he's not.I'll come clean here: Myoffice is a tempting place to be - and more often than not, I have given in tothe urge to cross that threshold and do "a few minutes" of work. Ido, after all, love what I do. Over the past few monthsI've noticed that I've been somewhat less than conscious in going through thatdoor..."Hello, my name isKen, and I spend too much time in the office..."I have my week set up sothat I have three days to spend with my clients. Mondays and Fridays aregenerally set aside for travel, catch-up, writing and planning. I made it apoint to arrange for plenty of father-son time, ending appointments and callsright around the time Cai steps off the bus.In theory, this is allgreat stuff. Looking at my calendar - and knowing the value I place onfatherhood and my relationship with my son - one would think I've got itnailed. On paper, I certainly look like a real uber-dad - a veritableBull-Goose of work-life balance - a paragon of daddy-dom who swings StevenCovey's sharpened saw of "what matters most" with the best of them...Up until now, it hasn'tquite worked out that way.It didn't take long for meto discover that I'm not particularly good at leaving loose ends untied. Infact, I found that the sound of a spinning hard-drive sings enough of a sirensong to pull me over the side and through the office door...Truth be told, I'm nowready to be tied to the mast - I really want to be tied to the mast! The songof good work is very sweet... and unless I've made specific plans to work whenthe rest of the family is at home, going through that office door lands me onthe rocks.I want to be very clearthat the rocks don't belong to either Danielle or my son. No one is throwingthem at me or dropping them in my pond. Those barnacle-encrusted boulders areall mine, thank you very much.This, in a nutshell, is anexample of what happens: The door is open and I just happen to float up thestairs while my son is enjoying an afternoon snack. I continue to float rightinto my office, mysteriously landing directly in front of my computer. Sincethere is something deeply - um, ah - compelling in need of my"immediate" attention, I am drawn in. I float into my seat, slide mykeyboard drawer open, and begin...Several minutes later, Ihear footsteps coming up the stairs. I'm quickly reminded that I'm not a hermitliving in a well-lit cave with broadband internet access...This wouldn't be such anissue were it not for the fact that I love both my family and my work. Thingsget dicey when I start to play them against one another, when I make up thatthere is a sudden, desperate time shortage and the things I'm working on needmy attention at... this... very... moment... or else!Or else... what?I watch as I slip into anunconscious fog of work - where distractions, usually human - become enemiesthat must be stopped at the gates of the city. Anyone who crosses the line ofmy office door becomes the instant recipient of a not-so-subtle scowl that,I've been told, doesn't really serve up much in the way of warm fuzzies. (Morelike sharp, icy something else that begins with an "f...") At timessuch as this, my inner critic, a rather dark being who sees the world only inblack and white, informs me that "It's us or them... Only one cansurvive!"In these moments, thecritic's logic, which also that tells me "You must do this (whatever"this" is...now, smells a bit like a dead rat.I've heard it said, timeand time again, that "children are older for a lot longer than they areyoung." In the context I first heard this truism; it was an argument forgetting out there and force-feeding a legacy while the kids were growing up.You could, after all, bank on having time with your children once they reachedadulthood. In their later years, the reasoning went, they would be more likelyto reflect upon, understand, and accept the actions that, in the eyes of achild, put walls around the adult world and excused a parent from engaging.After all, "this is work and this is important..."While there is some truthto that logic - there are times when work simply needs to get done - there isalso truth to the magic of a childhood witnessed. From what I've experienced sofar, the magical time passes quickly, and once it's gone, there just ain't noreplacing it...I've watched too many mendiscover that while they were at slogging away at work, their kids somehowbecame teens or young adults. I'm determined to do my work and spend myson's childhood with him - watching the changes that happen in him day to day.After all, I designed my schedule to give me conscious time - quality andquantity - with my family, especially on these lazy summer afternoons...Cai will be seven years-oldin another month. Six went by a bit fast for my taste, and I have it onauthority that the coming years (even though there really is no time shortage)won't be slowing down. With that in mind, and with a few rare exceptions, I'mdeclaring my office door officially closed once the bus arrives.If you want to reach mebetween 3:30 and 9 PM, leave a message - I'll call youback...Kids, a wise man told me,are younger for a lot less time than they are old... Spread the word. Article Tags: Office Door