Why I Don’t Use My Office

I am a mom and I stay home with my kids. So, yes, I’m a “stay-at-home” mom. I raised my kids full-time; played with them, fed them, got them to nap, arranged play dates and carpools. Now that they’re older, I oversee homework and afterschool activities, often schlepping them back and forth multiple times a day. I’m also a working mom. In addition to the work I do for my family, I write. And sometimes I even get paid for it (I know, it surprises the heck out of me too). So, having seen life from both sides of the fence, I feel perfectly qualified to weigh in on the debate between stay-at-home moms and “working” moms. [image error]

I’ve read many articles and blogs written by both overworked groups. We’re all tired. No one sleeps and everyone feels guilty. I’ve even read the materials written by the underappreciated stay-at-home dads and working dads. They’re feeling left out. But no one, no one, has addressed one very important, and completely overlooked issue: who gets the home office. Believe me, this is HUGE!

In my house, we have an extra room on the main floor of our house that we’ve made into the home office. This was my husband’s favorite (read, “only”) room to set up and he long ago claimed it as his. The justification? He should, rightfully, be allowed final say in at least one room of the house when it comes to decorating, especially since at the time, he was the one using it the most often. I agreed. And he started out well. He agonized for days until he found the perfect desk. It’s a roll-top, and is big enough to fit a person inside—trust me, I’ve tried it (as has my daughter). But it’s very nice looking. He’s a collector of antique maps, and when we first decorated the office, he hung a bunch of them up and made it look very refined. With deep red walls and built-in bookshelves, it had that old-timey feel to it. If you walked into our office, you might think we were super-sophisticated. Erudite even.

And then, other things took over. He’s a big Philadelphia fan, so Phillies and Eagles paraphernalia have crept in. Banners, autographed memorabilia, photos of the kids in their various fan clothes. He also loves Star Wars, and since I don’t want the rest of my house to look like something out of Tatoine (hah!), all his Star Wars stuff has found a home there.

Now, I wouldn’t mind that the office is his. Really, he deserves a place that’s his own. He puts up with a lot of crap from me and everyone needs an oasis in their home where they can relax. But, um, did I mention that I’m a “stay-at-home” mom who also works? And gets paid (still can’t believe that one)? Well, I kind of need a place to do that. So I’ve tried using the office. I mean, think about it. It’s a home office. I’m the one who’s home. Seems kind of a no-brainer that I should work there.

That desk that’s big enough to hide a person? Well, my husband is kind enough to let me use it. He even lets me keep a pile of stuff on it—providing my pile remains neat and orderly and out of his way. It’s the one and only time my husband says anything about being neat, so I really have to comply. Except that when it comes to paperwork and writing and doing work, I’m not neat at all. The rest of my house is, but for some reason I can’t manage it in a work environment. So I spread. And he moves my piles. And I try to make them neat and I fail. So I moved my paperwork out of the office and into the kitchen.

The office has two lovely chairs. One is a desk chair that I insisted on us buying after the old one nearly decimated my back. It’s great. Only I never use it. The other is a recliner chair that was coined “mine.” I rarely use that either. Instead, I sit at the dining room table or on the family room sofa. I’ve found I am more productive when I move back and forth between the two. Both of the locations give me a great view out the window, enabling me to procrastinate and dream.

I’ve tried suggesting that I should get to decorate it to my liking, now that I’m the one who can potentially use it more. Two main problems with that—one, all the stuff that’s been relegated to the office would have to spread to the rest of the house and two, I’ve just published publically that I don’t really use the office at all.

So, for now, I’m giving the office to my husband. It can be his man cave (I’m not sure man caves have Star Wars action figures, but…). I’ll wander the rest of the house, finding the most comfortable spots to write. Besides, it just means I’ve got one less room to actually clean!