Years ago, while my friends were hiring babysitters and going to work every day, I decided to try something different: I decided to work at home. My plan was to work around my children's schedules. I would work while the babies slept. I would work while the children were at school and in the evenings after they were tucked in for the night. If a child woke up ill, there would be no last-minute calls to cancel the babysitter, ask the boss to find a replacement, and reorganize the lives and schedules of everyone around me. Besides, my children would be secure in the knowledge that I would always be there when they needed me.

    I got my first few jobs through word of mouth. One friend told another and, Baruch Hashem, business flourished. Many times I had more work than I could handle. There were occasions, of course, when business was slow, but I needed those lapses to catch up on my household responsibilities. (I found myself looking forward to those occasional quiet times.)

    When the children were younger, my schedule went something like this. My mornings would begin at six-thirty; my sons would leave for yeshiva at seven. I waved a cheerful good-bye to the boys and then woke the girls. They had to be up by seven to be ready for their eight o'clock carpool. Again I waved a cheerful good-bye (although sometimes not as cheerful as I did the first shift).

    I looked around. The beds were unmade. Cereal bowls stood on the kitchen table half filled and half spilled. Where would I begin? On occasion, I even dared to try for a cup of piping hot coffee. As if on cue, the moment I filled the mug, the baby woke up. By the time she or he was changed and fed, I gave up on the coffee. I did a bit of cleaning here and there. If luck was with me, I sometimes even managed to get a load of laundry started.

    Running an office from my house was difficult at times, but I never complained. Watching my neighbors head to work each morning, I sometimes wondered which method was less complicated. As soon as their babysitters would enter the door, they hastily escaped for the day. When their workday was over, they returned home, leaving their office work behind. In my situation, the job never ended. I tried to be firm about my hours. But everyone who needed my services needed them now (or yesterday). If they needed it yesterday, I often wondered, why didn't they bring it tomorrow? But, of course, I didn't ask. It was only a rare client (may Hashem bless him or her) who needed the work in a couple of days or would say, "No rush, call me whenever it's done."

    Although the children are older now and in school full time, my home business is very much the same. A typical day goes something like this: The doorbell rings. I hastily head for the door, picking up whatever I find along the way. "Hello, Mrs. G., I'm sorry to do this to you. However, I just realized that it's Thursday, and that means this press release must be faxed to the newspaper before noon." I glance at my watch. I have an eleven o'clock appointment at the dentist. "I'll do my best," I reply. What else can I say?

    I quickly decide against starting the laundry and turn on the computer. I try to figure out where the press release begins anyway. There are arrows and stars everywhere. Does the second paragraph go before or after the arrow? Did Rabbi M. mean to cross out the words in parentheses? The program described in the article is scheduled for Monday evening, March second. But Monday is the third. Did he mean to say, Sunday, March second, or Monday, the third? I glance at the agglomeration of papers. I do the best I can, barely leaving myself enough time to proofread the job, drop it off at his office, and head for the dentist.

    The dentist is running late. I am pleased because I need time to sit down and unwind.

    By the time I completed all the typesetting, I barely had time to prepare dinner. Then my son returned from school with a report he needed for the following day. When I asked him why he waited for the last minute (I can't ask my clients, but I am free to ask my children), he replied that it took him all week to compile the necessary information and do the research. I took a couple of painkillers (as my teeth were beginning to ache from the dental work) and proceeded to type his lengthy report.

    The next morning was much like the previous one. I happily saw the children off to school. Baruch Hashem no one woke up sick.

    As I glanced around deciding what to do first, the phone rang. Hi, this isMr. C. I'm sorry to call you on such short notice, but I must have something typed.

    "Exactly when do you need it?" I inquired hesitantly.

    "Actually, it must be done in a couple of hours. I have to deliver it before noon."

    I quickly calculated how much time the job would take. If there were no interruptions, possibly I could have it ready in time. Besides, I could not refuse Mr. C. After all, he is a member of our shul and I have done work for him on many occasions. "I guess if you bring it over right away, I'll try my best," I responded hesitantly. I glanced at the clock. It was nine-thirty. Assuming he would be over by nine forty-five, it didn't give me much time to start on anything else. I debated whether to print the address labels for Mrs. L., but decided not to get started. By the time I set up her program on the computer and got the labels started, Mr. C. would surely be at my door. In all likelihood, I would lose more time than I was trying to save. So I waited for Mr. C. And waited, and waited... At eleven o'clock he called to say that his daughter decided to type the correspondence and he would not be dropping it off after all.

    I printed the address labels for Mrs. L., ran to the grocery store, and then started on Rabbi M.'s job. It was almost four o'clock when I decided to take a break and prepare dinner before the children returned from school. I prepared hot dogs and French fries and glanced at the clock. Too late for a nap. The carpool would be arriving momentarily.

    The phone rang. It was Mrs. W. She asked if her manuscript was ready. It was. "Well," she began, "I must hand it in tomorrow. I have no babysitter. Would you do me a favor and watch for me from the window? When I pull up with my car full of children, would you please bring the papers outside to my car? I should be there shortly, im yirtzeh Hashem." What could I say? I placed the manuscript on the table and sat down by the window to await her arrival. For the second time that day I waited, and waited and waited...

    It had been a long day. The children were finally in bed, the dishes were washed, and I looked forward to a leisurely bath before retiring for the evening. The phone rang. "Hi, this is Mrs. A.," the caller announced. "I don't know if you remember me, but you once did some work for me a few years ago. My son Gedalya just informed me that he needs a short essay typed for school tomorrow. Can I bring it over now and wait for you to do it? Or would it be more convenient if I dropped it off tonight and picked it up after my eight-thirty carpool in the morning?" "Now," or "in the morning," were the only choices she presented. "Never," was not one of the options!

    The time had come. It had taken many years to build up my business. Looking back, however, I remembered that the whole purpose of my home business was to be there for my family. When the family's demands were constantly being put on hold to meet the needs of my clients, I realized it was time to move on. I decided to become a freelance writer. Everything else could wait.

    Baruch Hashem, my previous experience has helped my writing career. Rather than hiring someone to do my typesetting, editing and proofreading-my ideas can be processed as they develop. I am free to write and rewrite at my own pace and convenience. Best of all, if a brilliant idea occurs to me at 3:00 a.m., there is no need to wake the typesetter asking that the work be ready first thing in the morning (a.k.a. yesterday). I can complete it myself before the break of dawn!

    And better yet, I can be there for the children (and grandchildren) when they need me.

Sara Gottlieb lives in Oak Park, Michigan and is a frequent contributor to the Jewish Homemaker.

The Midrash relates that prior to the giving of the Torah, Hashem asked the Jewish people, "Who will guarantee that the Torah will be observed throughout the generations?" The Jewish people suggested many possibilities-the elders, the prophets, the great men and women yet unborn. But Hashem was not satisfied. Finally, our children were suggested as guarantors. As we celebrate Shavuos, we acknowledge the special gift that Hashem bestowed upon us in the merit of our children. Let us give our children the time and the attention that they need in their youth. (Even if it means putting the occasional client on hold or daring to say "no" once in a while!) Only then can we insure the perpetuation of Torah and Yiddishkeit until the coming of Moshiach, may it be speedily in our days.