Be honest, aren’t there some days when your mind is more into your work than others?

It may be due to illness, family issues, or, just one of those days. Whatever the reason, it’s likely that you still need to work and function properly as an employee, even if you’re “just not into it, today”.

So, what’s a worker to do when distraction strikes?

1. Start each day with a “to-do” list – Everyone loves crossing things off a list, it’s often the incentive to keep you on track. Try making that the last task of the day, so, you can get right to work the next day.

2. Schedule “worry time” – Take a moment to write down the things that are bothering you, put the list in your wallet or purse, and, designate a time to think about such things. It may be on your lunch hour, or, on the ride home from work, just promise yourself time to address these things later, and, try to focus on the work at hand.

3. Take a short walk – Get up and walk around for a few minutes, preferably outside. The fresh air will help you feel better, and, a brief change of scenery may help you get focused upon your return.

4. Straighten up your work area – an organized work area can help you focus, and, at least prepare for the next day when you are ready to work.

5. Keep a list of “mindless tasks” – write it down, or, keep it in your head, for those days when, no matter what you do, you just can’t seem to get going with your regular to-do list. Put away that stack of files, label the newsletters, weed out your e-mail, just do something, and, often inspiration will follow.

6. Reward yourself – it may seem elementary, but, reward yourself with something small when you get 3 things on your list accomplished. It will give you something to look forward to, and, again, sometimes all it takes is to just do something, and, the rest of the work will flow, thus getting your mind back on track.

(careerandkids.com)

“Mom, you’re always on the computer!” Laura grumbled.

“No, I’m not,” I defended.

“Every day I come home from school you’re working on the computer.”

“Well, at least I’m here for you!”

My daughter, Laura, at twelve years old, was right. Day after day, in my home office, I would stare into space as my hands typed out the thoughts of a presentation or of research completed for an article. It seemed that my work as a writer and speaker cemented my fingers to the keyboard and my mind to valuable ideas. What Laura did not realize was that during her day away, I’d also be doing a load of laundry, answering incoming phone calls, cleaning up dirty dishes, crunching an editor’s deadline, sorting the family mail, networking and marketing my speaking service. It was only around three in the afternoon that I’d finally collapse at my desk for a few precious moments of deep thought. Then she’d come in from school.

I prided myself on being available to my children. After all, I am a speaker on child behavior and parenting. But Laura’s observation stung my conscience. Her perception of me must have been of a mom who was available but unapproachable. Hardly the image I wanted to project. My relationship with my children is more important than any other career.

“Laura,” I called, “come here a minute.”

Out of her bedroom, Laura strolled down the hall to my doorway. I had decided to have her alert me when I was obsessed with work. I wanted her to have the power to let me know when she thought I was being aloof.

“So you think I’m preoccupied?” I asked.

“Most of the time,” came her honest reply.

After I explained my full schedule and the fact that I chose to office from home to be accessible to her and her sister, I offered Laura this compromise.

“Whenever you feel I’m ignoring you or you need my attention, I want you to hug me,” I said. “Just come up and give me a little hug, and that’ll be our signal that you need me.”

Years later we still have that unspoken sign. I’ve become much more sensitive to my daughters’ comings and goings. And on the days I’m not, Laura gives me a little squeeze to remind me of the real reason I work from home.

By Christina Coruth

A CD player headset drowned out the background noise as I worked in the living room at my computer. My fingers rushed over the keys as fast as my mediocre typing skills would allow, and my unblinking eyes stared at the monitor. Working in the living room of a small house that is home to three adults and two young children has forced me to develop a new level in my ability to concentrate. I was busy, very busy with my work. I had achieved that state of concentration that allowed me to block out just about anything, a tornado vacuuming up the room around me, if need be.
Then it happened. A tiny rift opened in my concentration as my eye caught a glimpse of an object flying upward through the air. I pulled my mind back to my work. I didn’t even look to see what the object was, or what became of it as I sealed the rift. No sooner had I resumed my work, than laughter opened another rift in my concentration. Now I was getting annoyed. My seven-year-old grandson, Zach, was sitting across the room on the couch. His smile faded as I gave him my most stern, “Hush, I’m working” look.
Although I couldn’t hear him, I could see that he said, “Sorry, Nana.”
Success – another rift sealed and concentration restored. Sometimes children don’t understand that there is a time for play and a time for work. This time is work time and I must get back to it. Clickedy, clickedy over the keys my fingers raced.
Another object whizzed past my peripheral vision, and the music wafting through my headset was no match for Zach’s hearty laughter. Now I was really annoyed. Zach was too busy to see my sternest “Hush, I’m working” look. I followed his gaze to the ceiling as he launched another object, a hair scrunchy. With a quick slingshot motion, the hair scrunchy was airborne – whiz, bump, stuck to the popcorn ceiling. Some people like popcorn ceilings. To me, they look as if someone forgot to smooth out the Spackle. I never had any use for a bump-filled ceiling. Zach, on the other hand, had found a use for the ceiling, which now was adorned with a half a dozen hair scrunchies.
Red, purple and green circles clung to the ceiling, some flat up against it and some hanging down.
I lightened up my stern look a bit. “That’s very funny but you have to stop now. Scrunchies don’t belong on the ceiling.”
“But why not? It’s fun! I won’t break anything.”
I was about to tell him to go get the broom so that I could remove the scrunchies, when his words sunk into my head and reminded me of a time when I would have said, “why not?”also. When had I gotten so serious and so busy that I couldn’t revel in the joy of a moment? What happened to the woman who would send her young children’s friends into fits of giggles upon meeting them for the first time by asking them what they did for work and if they were married and had any children? What happened to the woman who laughed herself silly when her children and husband got into a snowball fight in the kitchen with cookie dough? When did I become so rigid? When did I forget, “Why not?”
Why not indeed! I looked at Zach and couldn’t help but smile.
“Can you show me how to do that?”
His face lit up as he showed me how to launch a scrunchy. His laughter filled the air and his eyes sparkled. The ceiling never looked so colorful and happy with all those red, green, purple and yellow circles, some laying flat and some hanging down. I have to admit, Zach was better at it than I. Most of his attempts hit their mark. Most of mine ended up on the floor.
The following morning, I sat at the computer, ready to begin my work. I looked at the scrunchies still clinging to the ceiling and smiled. I certainly had enjoyed our time putting them up there. I decided I would take them down later. That is, until the ceiling lost its grip on one, and it fell, bounced off my shoulder, and onto the floor. Zach’s smiling face flashed in my mind’s eye. I smiled again. I felt like that woman of years ago who laughed at the cookie dough fight. I picked up the scrunchy and plopped it into my pocket.
When Zach came home from school that day, I was ready. He had given me a precious gift, now it was time to show him that I appreciated it.
“Zach, I’ve been waiting all day for you. Look what I found on the floor. It’s no wonder I can’t find these scrunchies when I need them. Please put this away.” I handed him the scrunchy and he headed toward the door.
“Zach,” I called out to him, “where are you going?”
He turned to me, “I’m going to put the scrunchy away, Nana.”
“Please put it where I can find it.” I shifted my gaze from his sweet little face to the ceiling. A broad smile spread across his face as he realized what I was asking him to do. Whizzzzzz, bump – up it went. It was perfect!
If you come to my house, beware of falling scrunchies. You may wonder why I keep my scrunchies on the ceiling. Zach knows the answer to that question, and now, so do I – “Why not?”