Recently, my friend Bianca (a mother of four like me) said something that gave me a good chuckle: “It seems that half my life is spent dealing with food -- planning for it, shopping for it, fixing it and cleaning up after it.”

I laughed. And then I stopped laughing. Because, wow, she’s right.

In fact, I think the only thing she left off her insightful statement was the other big one: budgeting for it.

I’ve always thought of myself as a frugal shopper. I buy generic whenever possible, and I steer clear of expensive cuts of meat. While I think the idea of organic vegetables is a nice one, in reality, the price tag is too hefty for this family of six. I plan ahead on meals, and I even make special trips to Aldi when I have the chance.

But especially as my kids (and their appetites) are growing, I find myself operating with a nagging sense that I’m not maximizing my grocery budget. I feel like I’m missing something -- surely there must be a more economical way to feed this family.

I’m a freelance writer who works from home. For many years I viewed working at home as the ultimate ideal situation for a busy mom, the perfect way to roll together some family time and some professional goals.

It is ideal, in many ways -- I’m thankful for the work I have, especially in such messy economic times. But I’d be lying if I said the work-at-home set up is always a bed of roses -- it’s actually fraught with some significant challenges. Because I specialize in self-induced guilt trips, I cringe to venture a word of complaint. Many women would be very thankful to have this dilemma. I’m thankful to have this dilemma. These guilt trips aren’t especially productive, though. Especially these days, as I find myself in the middle of the most time-consuming project I’ve ever taken on, I need to get serious about finding the best way to strike balance in this tricky set-up.

This is the point in the post where I should tell you all the thoughtful solutions I’ve implemented thus far for setting healthy boundaries.  (Aaaand…you will notice it just got a little quiet.)

The truth is that I’m not exactly overrun with brilliant, thoughtful solutions, though I’ve tried to implement a few common-sense ideas. I try to set a defined space to work, and I stick to it (not always practical, since we don’t have a devoted office space in our home). Whenever it’s realistic, I work when the kids are at school (again, a luxury -- I am baffled, impressed and endlessly curious at how you work-at-home-moms of preschooler and homeschool kids manage).

Mostly I try (oh, how I try) to focus on the task at hand. I know it’s important and healthy to switch gears fully, engaging fully with my family when it’s time to leave work behind. This is easier said than done, some days, when that unfinished chapter or half-written invoice cackles at me from the desk down the hall. It’s entirely too tempting to hop up and finish, popping in and out of my roles so quickly that the boundaries get blurred. Many days, I’ve wondered (with tears of frustration) if the work-at-home arrangement is more geared for people who aren’t as distractible as I seem to be.

I suspect the not-altogether-easy answer lies in the mental discipline of setting boundaries and sticking with them. “The right thing isn’t always the easy thing,” I say to my kids, so many times they mouth the words along with me. It’s some advice I need to turn inward, as I continue to fumble my way through this.

And so I ask you (because I happen to know that the WAHM set-up is one that many readers here share with me): What are your best strategies for navigating the lines between work and home, especially when those two things reside within the same four walls?

At my sons’ elementary school, there is a themed art contest underway. Students are given a theme (this year it’s “Beauty Is…”), and can they product any piece of art, literature, music, photography, etc. to fit creatively with the theme.

At dinner the other night, we discussed what their possible entries might be. “So boys,” I asked them, “tell me what you think is beautiful.”

...Despite his questionable contribution to the discussion, the eight-year-old was still eager to participate, wondering if he could submit a photograph to the contest. “Of course,” I told him, handing over my camera and giving instructions. “Take a picture of what you think is beautiful.”

He did. And he said I could share the results.

My four-and-a-half-year-old daughter, Corrie, has an imaginary friend named Katie Mexico. Katie lives in our house, joined occasionally by her brother Mel Mexico (he tends to be in and out -- a vagabond imaginary friend, if you will). Katie may be simply a figment of my daughter’s charming imagination, but she is also wearing me out.

(Before I explain further, let me clear up that I am sympathetic to the importance of imaginary friends -- I had one as a child, too. Her name was Tonya, and she wore a dress remarkably similar to that of Scooby Doo’s Daphne. Come to think of it, she was often joined by her brother, Kimmy-ko, who tended to stop by only occasionally. I guess transient imaginary siblings must run in the family.)

I remember enjoying my “talks” with Tonya, and I remember how much fun it was to have a playmate who operated entirely by the dictates of my own imagination. So when Katie Mexico joined our family, I welcomed her.

Some days I rue the fact that I’m raising children in the digital age, with a seemingly endless range of cyber-dangers looming on the horizon. It overwhelms me, sometimes, and I’d like to herd them into a remote cave where they can only encounter well-mannered unicorns and butterflies who do not have Internet access. It’s a nice dream.

At the same time, though, there are plenty of days when I feel thankful that I can Facebook with my kids’ teachers, check the school lunch menu online, and send a cell phone with a kid on a sleepover. It’s a trade-off, I suppose. The digital age may be introducing new parenting challenges, but it’s also introducing new tools.