Working for the man little people

Many people enjoy (or, in some cases, tolerate) their jobs because of the variety they afford. Different tasks, challenges and situations break up the monotony of the work week, and provide an advantage to some jobs over others.

I'm willing to bet my job is about as varied as they come. Various tasks? Check. A multitude of challenges? Check. New situations on a regular basis? Check.

Of course my job requires many roles typically associated with being a "housewife" or, as we say today, a stay-at-home mom. I clean toilets. I prepare meals. And I look at loads and loads of laundry without screaming or giving my two weeks notice.

However, there is probably more variety to my position as chief executive keeper of some semblance of order in our household than some may realize. Here's the inside track to help enlighten the world.

Sometimes I'm patron of the arts. I "ooh" and "aaahh" over some of the most abstract masterpieces ever created. Supporting the arts is a critical aspect of my position, as is encouraging open mindedness in viewing others artwork. Siblings aren't always the most positive in critiquing the work of their peers.

Sometimes I'm an audience. Clapping and admiring the stunts and talents of some very creative minds. Who knew a "water nugget" involves sliding down our playset's enclosed spiral slide while dumping a bucket of water on yourself? I had a first row seat to its inception.

Sometimes I'm a teacher. These little minds are so full of curiosity and exuberance, there are very few situations that aren't ripe for teaching. A skunk tale turns into pulling our animal encyclopedia off the shelf for some breakfast reading which turns into a daylong discussion of skunks. This is how they learn.

Sometimes I'm a dance coach. Little girls equal dancing. And dancing. And more dancing. They twirl and turn somersaults daily.

Sometimes I'm a cheerleader. Encouraging Alena, Alivia, Trace and Alysse to each try new things and retry old things which may have been difficult. There's so much uncharted territory, there's always urging on to do, even if it means your foot might be used as a urinal.

Sometimes I'm a human global positioning system (GPS). Can't find your high falutin' stuffed dog's open-toe black heel? Mom knows where it's hiding. Missing your High School Musical ink pen? Mom can find it. Lost your toy drill bit needed for disassembling and reassembling your CAT front loader? Whine and mom will make it magically appear.

Sometimes I'm the director of a nudist colony. Who needs clothes? Apparently not our children. I try not to squash their abandon while enjoying the nakedness; however, attempt not to offend anyone but our immediate neighbors.

So, those interested in a truly varied workplace might start looking into my line of work. I'd love to read the www.monster.com listing.