One of the most unwieldy relationships we mommies manage is the relationship between our commitment to an employer and our commitment to our family. I had maintained a “full time” work schedule for the last three plus years, and “part time” when Carly was a potted plant. (That first year was remarkable: I performed copywriting and online marketing tasks from home, connected by phone and e-mail with another work-from-home mom in Canada, and partnering quite successfully on website design, content and e-mail marketing.)

Only when Carly became ambulatory did I seek out more money…and I scraped together a few feasible opportunities. The first was a bad fit culturally, though the option to work from home afternoons was offered. The second required an 8:30 a.m. start time (strictly enforced) and a 5 p.m. dismissal. Even though exempt, I was still required to work those exact hours, and I often worked late. The commute varied between 45 and 90 minutes, one way. I soon tired of this hamster wheel even though the work itself was stimulating.

For the past two plus years, I found the elusive 35-hour full time work week, wherein the employer ate my lunch break (pun intended) and I would go to the gym in the middle of the day and later scarf lunch at my desk. That work/life balance was wonderful…and I felt very committed to this organization. My tasks, however, were less than engaging; my manager, less than competent. I left.

A lot of jobs are out, just based upon location. I can’t face that three-hour commute again. And I really do need to be available to drop Carly at preschool, day camp, and later kindergarten no earlier than 8 a.m., and retrieve her no later than 6 p.m. I don’t think this is unreasonable. I need a 9-to-5 job within 15 miles of my hometown. Of course, that’s not all of it. I quit my balanced job because there were limited growth opportunities. I want a leadership role with the option to be creative. And I know that my commitment to my job is exceeded only by my commitment to Carly.

All of these considerations led me to an interview at a small company, headquartered about 45 minutes away, for a job interview last week. I had confirmed with one party over the phone that a 9-to-5 schedule would be okay (they work 9-to-6); and the next day I found myself speaking with a twitchy gentleman who kept referring to “the situation with (my) daughter” as if this situation were a boil to be lanced. “If you leave early, at 5,” he asked, “then how do we know that you are really committed to your job?”

I spent the better part of three hours fielding questions like that one. I could picture Carly standing by the roadside waiting for mommy to pick her up. Sorry Carly, I would have to tell her. Mommy has to work until 6. I would drop the mommy ball if I took this job as is, and, though they claimed to be flexible, they were clearly struggling with the unknown. “The truth is: you don’t know,” I told him. “You don’t know whether anybody, mother or not, will be a good worker. That’s why you’ll check my references and review my portfolios.”

I never intended to make anybody uncomfortable, or to ask a company to pay me an unreasonable wage for sub par work product. But can I balance, or integrate, work and life without disrupting the status quo? Some people assume that being a mother means not liking employment outside the home; and that if you don’t like to work, your work won’t be good. I know this is not the case with me.

Pablo Picasso said, “It is your work in life that is the ultimate seduction.” He was likely referring to dentistry. For the rest of us, there’s telecommuting.