Telecommuting. For most bread-winning parents, the very word conjures a vision of a perfectly balanced lifestyle, one in which work and home are seamlessly intertwined.

I’ll be the first to admit that working from home is not without its advantages. Experience, however, has taught me that if kids are about, the line dividing work and home can quickly become blurred.

To help redraw the line, we have a list of mutually-agreed upon rules to keep the two straight.

#1 – If my office door is closed, do not open it. Ever.

On a recent frantic morning, one of my sons alerted me to the fact that his supply of clean underwear had been depleted. Throwing a quick load in the wash, I ascended to my office to prepare for a mandatory cannot-miss, must-participate-in meeting with members of my project team. Just as we were diving into the gritty details of said plan, my son burst in with, “Hey Mom, the underwear’s done!”

“Great…Thanks, honey,” I replied after hitting the mute button on my phone with enough force to push my car out of the driveway.

#2 – No singing in the shower.

Because my home office shares a wall with my sons’ bathroom, and the members of my project team do not appreciate the aesthetics of the Black-eyed Peas as much as they do, singing in the shower is banned when I am on the clock.

#3 – Dazzle me with your survival skills.

Remember that despite being home, I really am working. The last thing I want to see when I punch out is a sink full of dirty dishes. Also, do not expect me to fetch things, make things or clean things that you can fetch, make or clean yourself.

#4 – No electronic devices at the kitchen table.

Why? They’re distracting, cause disputes over possession, usually emit whirring, beeping or vroom-vroom noises and divert one’s attention from the meal.

In short, playing with toys at the table is just plain rude.

As soon as my husband reminded me of this, I closed my laptop and slipped it into my briefcase sitting innocently at my feet.

Rule #5 – The planner does not leave the office.

Arriving late to a lovely sit-down dinner with my family, I took a head count and noted that all were in attendance. No one was at scouts, track practice or the library.

We had a quorum.

So, while everyone was enjoying their food, discussing their day and telling newly-learned jokes, I pulled out my planner and, knee bouncing furiously under the table, started running through my agenda. Topics included: family vacation ideas and a review of open action items (“Honey, where are we at with getting that check engine light diagnosed?” and “Didn’t I ask someone to shovel today?”).

Something in their blank stares told me that I had crossed the line.

Perhaps this rule is in need of an edit.

Rule # 5 – The planner notebook must stay confined in the office.

The planner in me, however, is allowed time off for good behavior.