Work vs. Work

I have found, as a parent, that there are two distinct kinds of work in this world: the voluntary and the involuntary.  The paid and the unpaid.  The kind you can leave at the end of the day, and the kind that follows you around pathetically if you try to ignore it.  What I mean is, what some people would call an actual job, versus taking care of a kid.

Now, it's voluntary in the sense that I voluntarily procreated, and it's paid in the sense that I get kisses on the cheek and snuggles and You're a good friend, Mommy.  And I can leave if I very carefully arrange to do so.  But this kind of work, no one can prepare you for the sheer relentlessness of it.

Going back to a real job, however limited the hours, is kind of odd for me right now.  I'm slowly remembering my retail skills: the bright smile when a customer walks in the door, the friendly greeting, the follow-up, the small talk while you ring them up.  That's all pretty fun stuff, and it comes pretty naturally to me, but at the moment, I'm balancing that sprightly retail demeanor with trying to keep my daughter in line while she's with me at the store.  

So it sounds a little like, Good morning! Can I help you find anything today?  Great, well please let me know if I can help. Maeve. Get OFF the rocking chair.  Let's go do stickers, okay?  No honey, don't touch the baby, please.  Sure, I can grab your water bottle.  Are you ready to checkout?  Did you need a bag today?  Get OFF the chair, I said.

It's a good thing most of our customers are parents.  Sheesh.

Momma. Momma. Mommy. Momma. Mommy.