I don’t like telling my family I’ll be home at a certain time. Naming it out loud seems to act like a beacon, calling forth all kinds of interruptions from colleagues on my way out of the office, meetings running long at the end of the day, or traffic piling up in ways that are a special kind of hell, even for Los Angeles. Saying, “I should be back by…” or “We can have dinner at…” has come to feel like a jinx, dooming my late afternoon to white knuckles on the steering wheel and my evening to jilted plans and fed up family members.
So, I stopped saying when I would be home. I’ve also gotten more disciplined about how I schedule my days, and letting people know I have a firm cutoff for that last meeting (though it still sometimes goes long). I also have taken the train for several years now. It comes with its own sets of potential delays, but they are less frequent than the red tail lights on the freeways, and when they occur I can at least safely and legally text an update that I’m delayed. I also return home less frazzled due to a short nap on the train or at least the luxury of having some alone time with my thoughts between the fast pace of my work day and the demands of parenting in the evening.
My sister, who has lived with my kids and I since the beginning of the pandemic and has flexibility in her work to be “on duty” when my kids get out of school, will occasionally ask, “So…when is your last meeting?” Or, “when do you think you’ll be home?” She is my partner in game planning our approach to meals and other contentious issues in our home, my savior when it comes to laundry, overall good company and more fun in the eyes of my son most of the time. I look at her pointedly, knowing all the practices I’ve been working on, all the boundaries I've been setting, and still say, “You know I shouldn’t answer that.”
— slowjamr
So, I stopped saying when I would be home. I’ve also gotten more disciplined about how I schedule my days, and letting people know I have a firm cutoff for that last meeting (though it still sometimes goes long). I also have taken the train for several years now. It comes with its own sets of potential delays, but they are less frequent than the red tail lights on the freeways, and when they occur I can at least safely and legally text an update that I’m delayed. I also return home less frazzled due to a short nap on the train or at least the luxury of having some alone time with my thoughts between the fast pace of my work day and the demands of parenting in the evening.
My sister, who has lived with my kids and I since the beginning of the pandemic and has flexibility in her work to be “on duty” when my kids get out of school, will occasionally ask, “So…when is your last meeting?” Or, “when do you think you’ll be home?” She is my partner in game planning our approach to meals and other contentious issues in our home, my savior when it comes to laundry, overall good company and more fun in the eyes of my son most of the time. I look at her pointedly, knowing all the practices I’ve been working on, all the boundaries I've been setting, and still say, “You know I shouldn’t answer that.”
— slowjamr
I agree that setting a time in that way does cause anxiety. I'm not working anymore, but I still tell myself (and others) that I'm going to do something at a certain time, and find myself getting frustratred and cursing other drivers when I'm a few minutes late. It never occurred to me to just NOT set a specific time! But you know, if you're doing something with someone else, you kind of have to. That is wonderful that you have your sister there! What a useful arrangement! I take it that you get along! I really like the way this piece of writing just speeds along, no red tail-lights for your prose! (Macoff)
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