I., my son in second grade, has been having a heck of a time going to school. The holiday feeling is in the air and he is sure that everyone should have the whole month of December off. He is also getting the idea that this is it forever. Everyday is going to be work of some sort or another.
After I barked at him to get his coat on for the 100th time this morning, my husband (who is not usually here for morning send off) swoops in and puts on his understanding voice. “It’s not a choice, kiddo,” he says, “kids go to school and grown-ups go to work.” “Mom doesn’t go to work,” says my son. “Yes, she works here at home.” “All she does is draw pictures. That’s not work.” “That’s Mom’s work, and she works hard taking care of you and your brother, but we’re not talking about Mom, we’re talking about you. Let’s go put on your coat.”
Hmmm…not work, eh? If you like your job, is it not work. If you don’t get paid, is it not work. If you are learning, and researching, and promoting and marketing, and building a body of art that is self assigned, is it not work? If you write on speculation, is it not work?
If you are home all day and your bathroom is still gross, then it’s work.