Twenty years of professional life goes very slowly when you're young. Ten years of work-at-home life goes much, much faster when you're ... ahem ... ten years older to start. In these last ten years, my youngest child turned thirteen. Bound for high school. And the older two? In college. Unfathomable from where I had stood, as three little kids came rushing at me the moment I entered the house from my big city job, feeling defeated by the very poor juggling job I believed I was doing. Now, many nights, it's just the teenager and me, eating parallel dinners while he reads a book and I read the paper. While I wouldn't trade those years at home for all of the company cars in the world, I wonder why I never thought of this when I made that career choice so many years ago. I never realized I would not continue to feel as satisfied being the work-at-home mom of one child as I did with three.
So, once again my old motto of “never say never” is coming back to bite me. I have to admit, I even have days where I'd love to be pulled into a long, all-hands-on-deck “we just want to see your face” meeting where everyone surreptitiously checks their iPhones under the boardroom table. Now that very well might be bliss.