She learned the term from her mother, who always said you knew you were healthy if you had the wants. When you stopped wanting things, watch out.

I want things all the time. A brand-new car, for instance, would be heavenly - one where the cup holder doesn't fall apart when I turn a corner. Or with a ceiling the neighborhood boys have deemed "fluffy" because the headliner is coming down.

Sometimes these wants are quite intense, especially when I drop off my 8-year-old son, Tyler, to play at friends' houses. Suddenly I'm coveting all kinds of things - tile, furniture, stainless steel appliances.

And, actually, I could have at least some of these things, as my brother-in-law reminded me recently: "You could make a lot more money than you do now if you took a corporate job." My husband added, "You could get health benefits, too." Whose side was he on?

I've been a full-time freelance writer for about 12 years, and I make OK money. I write for newspapers and magazines and also do corporate writing and editing and a bit of teaching. It's true, though; I could make a much better salary working in corporate communications or public relations.

But I don't want to. I didn't want to 10 years ago, and I still don't. I admit sometimes the subjects I tackle would make for good bedtime reading - like the time I wrote about crown moulding. That one had me nodding off at the keyboard. But the truth is, I'm grateful for my job.

My job allows me to work at midnight so that at noon the next day I can go roller-skating with Tyler. He's finally learning to keep his knees together. Afterward, we pay a buck-fifty for air hockey that lasts all of 90 seconds.

Sometimes, while Tyler sleeps, I transcribe tape so that the next day we can ride our bikes early - stopping along the way to examine the beetles, slugs, tree frogs and caterpillars we find on the trail. I taught him how to suck the honey out of a honeysuckle instead of writing press releases.

Because of the job I've chosen, and its less than stellar salary, I can be at the bus stop every day at 3:45 p.m. to witness what accompanies him home from second grade: the leopard animal habitat he made or the friend who rides the bus home to play until dinner.

I'm grateful for my job's flexibility because I know there are many women who would love to be able to work and stay at home.

Working is too often an all-or-nothing proposition for mothers. There are not enough jobs like mine, and I am grateful that I have it and that it sustains me, financially and emotionally.

So when I get the wants, I remind myself that no matter what it is I want, it's not worth it. For me, anyway.

I think of my 8-year-old, his cargo shorts loaded with rocks and cricket's legs, the two of us coasting downhill on our bikes, and I think he is like me: free. Our time is our own for now. And I am grateful.