While hanging out and drinking wine with my fellow divorced friends, the “Would you be willing to have another kid?” question arose.

Our answers varied from “No way!” to “Yes, if I could do it differently this time.”

The “Doing it differently” idea captivated all of us. Even the “No way in hell” women grinned when they paused to consider the possibilities.

Some of the “differentlies” were about having a partner that was more involved, but mostly the fantasies revolved around how could we make room for another child without giving anything up.

As Jill so eloquently stated, “I’d be open to having another baby if I only had to take care of it one day a week.”

Years ago, when I was yearning for a baby, my yearnings were based in the “one day a week” ideology more than reality, but I didn’t know it.

My fantasy consisted of the one-hour walk I would take with my adorable baby sleeping peacefully in the stroller and then some smatterings of cuddles, hugs and kisses. That’s what I thought motherhood would consist of.

I lost my job the day he was born, so within one day the fantasy of a cooing sleeping baby was shattered as well as the possibility of only watching this baby on a part-time basis.

A week after he was born, I realized I was a stay-at-home mom. This was not part of the fantasy.

I remember rocking my two-week-old and thinking, “This can’t be my life. I can’t spend every day nursing a baby and hoping for sleep.”

I started fantasizing about ways to escape the all-consuming responsibility I felt.

My first plan was to go back to work, but once again my ideas were not based in reality.

I taught part time and brought my son with me most days, so this was far from the escape I fantasized about.

I’ve never been good at math, but it didn’t take long to realize full-time mothering plus a 30 percent teaching schedule equals hell.

I know many women do this well, but they are usually smart enough to add the crucial element to the equation, which is support.

Someone else attends to their child while they work so the schedule is somewhat manageable. I forgot the support part.

So my dreams changed to “I want to be the dad” fantasies.

I wanted to leave the house while everyone was still sleeping so my only concern was to get my self dressed, caffeinated and out the door. I would return home eight or nine hours later, play with the kids for a bit, eat dinner with them, read to them and tuck them into bed.

I would be liberated from the 8-to-5 drudgery and boredom that had become my life.

We attempted a part-time option of this scenario for a couple of months, but all too often I returned home to three very stressed family members.

Finally, my then-husband admitted, “I don’t know how you do this. I can’t do it anymore.”

So, I reluctantly gave up my two days of being the dad.

For some reason, I believed my kids had to be with me or their father and very rarely left them with anyone else.

Although I knew I was barely getting through each day and far from the bubbly, patient, full-of-craft-project-idea type of mom, I couldn’t bring myself to hire a nanny or find a day care to give myself the much-desired time I needed to write, think and generally get my sanity back.

Once my kids reached 3 years old, I signed them up for preschool.

It took about five seconds for me to go from “Oh, my baby is growing up” tears to “Thank God! I finally have time to myself” jumps of joy.

Within a month, they both decided they wanted to stay until 3 p.m. rather than have me pick them up after lunch. This allowed for more time to work, which equaled more joy.

The same equation came into play when I separated from my husband.

At first, it felt like a huge luxury to have every other weekend to myself. Within a few months, I asked for us to move towards a 60/40 split. For close to a year now, my kids have been at his house three days out of every week, and I love it.

They aren’t in the other room playing while I try to edit. They aren’t swinging in a swing while I try to teach a class. They aren’t sleeping upstairs while I try to fight my own fatigue and accomplish 100 tasks before I fall over.

They are absolutely, 100 percent being taken care of by someone who adores them and loves them as much as I do. And, I don’t even have to pay him.

My fantasy has finally become a reality, and I am a part-time mom.

Gone are the glances at the clock and the groans that follow when I see only 10 minutes have passed since I last looked. Gone are the “How am I going to get through this day?” thoughts.

And, in their place is enough time to work, play, sleep and have my own thoughts away from my children so when I am with them, I am really with them rather than fantasizing about being somewhere else.

Corbin Lewars (www.corbinlewars.com) is the founder of Reality Mom (www.realitymomzine.blogspot.com), author of "Creating a Life" (Catalyst Book Press, 2010) and the sexy mommy-lit book "Swings" (out for submission). She lives in Ballard with her two children.