Curve Balls

When you are working mom, married to a working dad, raising three small children, life is a hustle each and every day.

I'm not complaining - I like a good hustle. And most days, most weeks, I'm pretty good it at it (minus the fact that I'm generally 5-10 minutes late to everything.)

The problem is, the hustle isn't just about pace, it's about precision. To get through any day, you depend on the dependable; things going as planned. But life is never that generous; error free execution is unlikely; when one kid poops all over me, there's bound to be more. 

This past week, my experience was anything but dependable or error free. Each day instead of the typical, I got dealt the a-typical. I had to change gears, make up for lost time and stay optimistic. But by the time I pulled into my driveway on Friday evening, I was nearly ready to give up.

It all started with good news that happened a while ago. In December, I was promoted. Big deal. Awesome. (Finally.) But on the flip side, I was used to the day to day as a Manager. Executing as a Director, with the increased responsibility, hours and stress is a little more tricky.

Then you add traveling for work. I was in Charlotte this week, pumping and flying yet again. Missing my babies, praying that Peter could do it all, trying to get home as soon as possible.

Then you add security screening. I got stopped for my stash of breast milk in my carry on. Instead of letting me pass, I got questioned about the whereabouts of my baby. I kid you not. Then I got tested for the vapors coming off my milk. Then I had to get a second opinion from the head of security. Then they tried to return my baby's milk to the wrong mom. Again I kid you not. Finally, my milk and I were released, just in time to line up and board.

Then you add car complications. I arrived home and found that my tire had a hole in it. Like literally a hole with air pouring on out of it. The friendly service man at O'Hare couldn't do anything for me. So I drove all the way from O'Hare to Oak Brook to make it to my 12:30 creative brief review on a run flat / very flat tire while 18 wheelers honked at me to move aside. Life in the slow lane doesn't work.

Then you go to sleep at the end of a long day, only to wake up a couple hours later because someone is having mommy went away anxiety or an ear infection or teething or who knows just please go back to sleep.

Then you finally remember your kids doctor appointment, and arrive relatively on time, only to find out that your son might have a lazy eye. So you get the ophthalmologist referral and plan accordingly.

Then dinner is sub par. Then when everything's cleaned up, you hear Lincoln Logs being spilled all over the floor again. A glass breaks, you get a paper cut, the spit up on your newly dry cleaned jacket turns rancid, the box of wipes and the bottle of wine are both empty. And there's still another day in the week. A day where your equipment team drops a bomb. And everyone leaves for the weekend with a sinking feeling in their stomachs.

Blah.

After complaining to my Mom, Dad, Aunt Dee Dee and husband about the week I had experienced, I decided to find the humor in it and celebrate the weekend. Because it wasn't any typical weekend, it was my daughter's fifth birthday party weekend. We had guests in town, places to be, Mimi's chicken pot pies to eat, and a fairy tea party to throw.

       

It was all wonderful. And exactly what I needed to put life into perspective once again.

It's Monday, things are going as planned (so far), and it's going to be a great week. Even if more bombs go off at work, at the end of the day, I'll have these three smiling faces welcoming me through the door. And as long as their smiling, I'll be laughing right along with them. 

Lo.