One Hot Momma
And there I was lying on the beach with a fruity drink in my hand. You know, the kind with the fun umbrella. The breezes were blowing, and for once, I wasn#t concerned about how I looked in my bathing suit. Strange. But off in the distance I could faintly hear something. Was it the buzz of a boat passing by? Was it the cackling from the seagulls? What was it?
I opened my eyes to get a better understanding of the noise. Oh no! I#ve gone blind! Wait a minute. I#m not on the beach. I#m at home, in my bed, in the dark. And, hey, that#s no seagull. It#s the very, very familiar sound of my baby#s cry coming through the top-notch, all-too-high-tech baby monitor.
Welcome to my world.
As the mother of a 9-month-old, most of my days start this way. I#ve drifted off to la-la land dreaming of a quiet place, a calm place, a place with no poopy diapers, and I#m jolted back into reality, thanks to the modern conveniences sold at your neighborhood Babies #R Us store. And the race is on.
Thank goodness for smiling children, though. As harsh as the wake-up call is, it sure eases the pain when I see my daughter#s bright-eyed, bushy-tailed face when I pick her up from the crib to start the day.
Oh, I#m sure there are lots of other mothers who have this thing down pat. I hear the buzz in my neighborhood about the kids who go to bed at 8 p.m. and sleep all night until 8 a.m. the next day. Their little ones sit happily in the bouncy seat or exersaucer (or whatever hot new baby entertainment contraption is out on the market) while they shower, dress and blow-dry their hair. Yes, I said they get to blow dry their hair. But, oh no, not in my household.
Between my husband, my dog and my bambino, it#s a matter of time management. My husband and I are like tag-team wrestlers passing off the next challenge when the time is right. You feed the baby while I let the dog out. Can you give her a bath while I start dinner? I#ll take her for a walk while you cut the grass. Grab her shoes out of the dog#s mouth while I change this diaper.
And everyday, this is the song my life sings.
Bringing Home the Bacon
Even when I was little, I knew I#d be a working woman. When we played pretend, we pretended to be teachers and circus performers and those people who wore pantyhose and carried briefcases. Quite the range of interests, I know, but that#s how our games went. I envisioned myself taking the train into the city with my high heels and business suits.
I#m up, I#m up. Believe me, I#m up and headed to the shower to start the day. But we#re not talking a long, hot bath here. As the water starts to revive me from the night, my mind starts racing. O.k., I#ve got an 8 a.m. meeting to discuss this week#s priorities. After that, I#m due for a conference call to discuss the new marketing kit. Then, things should settle down and I can get some work done that#s already on my desk (instead of the new stuff that just emerged from the 8 a.m. meeting and conference call). Maybe at lunch I can pick up the dry cleaning, and then at 2 p.m., I have to meet with the printer. The rest of the afternoon should be quiet, but then I#m off to the Chamber networking event to drum up some more business.
And those are just the things I KNOW will happen today.
Even when I was little, I knew I#d be a working woman. When we played pretend, we pretended to be teachers and circus performers and those people who wore pantyhose and carried briefcases. Quite the range of interests, I know, but that#s how our games went. I envisioned myself taking the train into the city with my high heels and business suits. I pretended to sit at a desk and just wait for people to come in and hand me papers to just #sign# for them. A career was in my future.
And here I am having a career. And it#s busy and stres