A Hug for Your Thoughts
Friday, February 15th, 2008“Mom, you’re always on the computer!” Laura grumbled.
“No, I’m not.” I defended.
“Every day I come home from school you’re working on the computer.”
“Well, at least I’m here for you!”
My daughter, Laura, twelve years old, was right. Day after day, in my home office, I would stare into space as my hands typed out the thoughts of a presentation or of research completed for an article. It seemed that my work as a writer and speaker cemented my fingers to the keyboard and my mind to valuable ideas. What laura did not realize was that during her day away, I’d also be doing a load of laundry, answering incoming phone calls, cleaning up dirty dishes, crunching an editor’s deadline, sorting the family mail, networking and marketing my speaking service. It was only around three in the afternoon that I’d finally collapse at my desk for a few precious moments of deep thought. Then she’d come in from school.
I prided myself on being available to my children. After all, I am a speaker on child behaviour and parenting. But Laura’s observation stung my conscience. Her perception of me must have been of a mom who was available but unapproachable. Hardly the image I wanted to project. My relationship with my children is more important that any other career.
“Laura,” I called,”come here a minute.”
Out of her bedroom, Laura strolled down the hall to my doorway. I had decided to have her alert me when I was obsessed with work. I wanted her to have the power to let know when she thought I was being aloof.
“So you think I’m preoccupied?’ I asked.
“Most of the time.” came her honest reply.
After I explained my full schedule and the fact that I chose home office to be accessible to her and her sister, I offered Laura this compromise.
“Whenever you feel I’m ignoring you or you need my attention. I want you to hug me,” I said,”Just come up and give me a little hug, and that’ll be our signal that you need me.”
Years later we still haven’t that spoken sign. I’ve become much more sensitive to my daughters’ comings and going. And on the days I’m not, Laura gives me a little squeeze to remind me of the real reason I work at home.