Another of my trademark, uninteresting to all but me posts...

It is midnight, a lovely Saturday just over, making way for a not-so-promising Sunday.. and I am at my laptop desperately trying to catch up some of the work which I have been deftly procrastinating all through the last week. Flexibility at work is a double-edged sword. It works wonders for sincere people and plunders the less fortunate, the kind I belong to, folks who would give their right hand to avoid work. My employer allows me to push off early and pick up work from home. I do follow the first half of the term stated religiously, but mostly miss out on the remaining half. And there begins my misery.. 2 weeks into the job, and I am already overloaded, work piling up on my not so capable shoulders, and an ever aching back. And here comes the cause of all my tribulations, my little bundle of joy, and my big bunch of trouble. Active and alert as she always is at all such unheavenly hours, she approaches me a wide grin, flashing all of her 4+4 teeth, crawling at an impressive pace. She has successfully put her nanny to sleep, and is probably paying me a courtesy visit.. 'just came to check on you mom, still working, eh?' And following suit is my husband, tired and drowsy, asking me to take charge of the baby. He has been taking care of the baby all evening, he gently reminds me. I am mincing words, but you get the idea, right? I refrain from refresing in his memory the fact that I have been doing the same for the last 5 evenings leading to accumulation of my work, while he sits late in the office, finishing off his. It wouldn't help either of us.. Rather I timidly request him to kindly bear with me for another half an hr or so, after which I shall resume my nightly motherly duties. These involve pacifying the baby at all the odd times she decides to scream her lungs out for reasons completely unknown to me, preparing formula for her whenever she looks and sounds hungry coupled with other trivial tasks like pulling her back everytime she threatens to jump off the bed, putting her under the quilt the umpteen times she kicks it off and protecting my rather delicate frame from plausible damage whenever she gets down to practising some kicking and punching.. I am so glad I get to escape all these 'pleasures of motherhood' during the time of the day I spend in the calm interiors of my air conditioned office. But then, this five-day-a-week liberation comes at a price. That which I am paying right now, burning the midnight oil, rather electricity in my case. Gotta run now.. lest my husband blows off his fuse.. Mom reporting for duty, Madame..