When I meet new people - and I very often do - I'm eventually asked what I do for a living. "Oh! Uh... I'm a stay-at-home-mom, but I'm also a doula sometimes and a writer... Well, not really a writer. I mean, I write, but I've never been paid to write. I'm trying to get paid to write, but it's slow, you know? I'm building my portfolio... And stuff. Look, it's not like your average job, okay? It takes time and I don't exactly have a lot of that. I have three kids and a dirty house and five thousand animals... Well, six animals. But they shed a lot and the bunny cage is always full of poop. So, in short, I will be a writer someday, as soon as I don't have to put any effort in and something magically falls in my lap."

Well, wouldn't you know it: Something magically fell in my lap.

I don't know if there was any magic to it, exactly, but it did involve a friend of mine who is a successful full-time writer who I place way, way up on a pedestal because she does what I want to do for a living and I admire her for it. She's been really busy, and asked if I could help her out with a contract she was sure I could do. She was willing to pay me a good wage for it, too.

When I say "a good wage" I mean I made in five hours what I would make in an entire week watching someone's child. I have my earnings sitting on my desk and I just stare at it. Geekster wants me to deposit it into our chequing account and make a credit card payment.

He wants me to make a credit card payment.

A credit card payment? With my money!?

Isn't that what his money is for?

I seem to be much pickier about where my cashola goes than where his does. I had to actually work for this money, you know. It took me half of an entire day and you want me to pay down debt with it? Ick.

There was one other option, and I took it; the lesser of two evils, if you will. I bought the gremlins some shoes.

I wanted a nice top or a pedicure! (Insert foot stomping here.)

I did leave the giant super mega store with a certain sense of satisfaction, however. It was nice to be able to support my family - well, buy my family's footware - by doing something I'm passionate about. It felt a lot better than spending my husband's money, and I never thought I'd hear myself say that.

I probably don't want to say that to him, either, because he's likely to start encouraging me to make a lot more of my own money. That could lead to far fewer coffee dates and afternoon backyard shinanigans. I want to make money, but not, like, all the time. That would be like having a real job on top of all this gremlin herding.

So, I'm madly applying for contracts and will hopefully land some soon. Meanwhile, the cosmos has, naturally, re-ordered itself to suit my needs: E-man and his baby sister will be going to another daycare because their mom just got a full-time job. Why are they not staying here? Because there are a few jobs I told myself I will not do full-time:

• taxidermy
• bovine insemination
  
• killer bee extermination
• illegal alien smuggling
• childcare

It's nothing personal, it's just on my list. Having done some of these things full-time before (well, one of these things) I know it's not what brings me joy. And don't we all want me to be joyous? Of course we do. Not doing childcare or bovine insemination will give me time to focus on my writing, so that I may become a world-famous author and be worshipped by all.

I love how a plan comes together.

In short, when someone asks me what I do for a living I can now say 'Not only am I an amazing stay-at-home-mom, but I'm also a professional writer.'

Emphasis on the "professional" part. Damn, I rock.