Whine Factory On The Loose

There's nothing worse than being a stay at home working mom. For starters you aren't taken seriously by anyone. Not even by yourself. You cannot say No, today is Tuesday I can't go out for dinner because unlike proper working moms, you do not have a morning rush hour, PF or a boss. So you tag along, even if there's a deadline looming at the back of your mind and the spectre of having to work way past midnight.
The people you are working for seem to think they are doing you a favor by simply offering you something to do. "That Bangalore housewife wants the deadline extended. God, what do these freelancers do the whole day!"*
The direct fallout of this is that they think your work hours extend the entire day because unlike them, you aren't really working, are you? And then there are ever helpful family and friends. "You look terrible," a friend informs, "Go get a haircut."
"But I don't have the time," I whine, "I drop A to the daycare, rush home and work, finish and pick him up. My day's packed."
"What nonsense!" she declares, "You're working from home, aren't you?"
Then there are the moms. The scariest of the lot are the ones who have given up Ivy League degrees and fat paychecks for Project Pram. "You should get him down to the park more often. The weather's really nice," they chorus. Mommy scrutiny gets me all shaken and stirred, sorry scared, so I can't help but get into unstoppable confession mode.
"Erm...I had a deadline. So I let him sit inside his tenthouse and watch Winnie The Pooh five times nonstop. Oh and I also let him eat chips and almost got him beer, just to get him to stay quiet," I dread the questions that will inevitably follow after Work Vs Park. Might as well deflect them beforehand.
The saddest bit is that all your 'Me Time' (to quote Femina/Cosmo etc) gets eaten up. When the tyke is away/asleep you work and when the tyke is around/awake you a)try to work or b)feel terribly guilty about Winnie The Pooh viewings (Television! The nemesis of good motherhood!) and try constructive, fun activity which results in 30 mins of play and two hours of clean up. There are four unread books lying on the bedside table and I feel weirdly guilty (Guilt is truly every mom's best pal) when I spot them gathering dust. After all, I don't even have a proper job. How would we ever manage if I did?

* I'm sure in another life I would have been a bitchy ed to a freelancing mom. This, I guess, is payback time.