Where does the time go?

I'm dusting off an essay I wrote for Musing Mama for this week's Blog Blast, sponsored by Parent Bloggers and Light Iris. Winner gets a free ticket to this year's Blogher, where you can stalk your favorite bloggers in person!



Trick or task
Essays
Written by Cathy
Monday, 15 November 2004


Help! The ability to multitask like the pros eludes me.

Until Halloween, I really thought I was doing OK. But one holiday — and the Friday from hell — proved I have yet to join the ranks of the Perfect Mommy set.

Friday, Oct. 29, 7 a.m.: Leave the house with 20-month-old Tootie. Am en route to doctor's office for Tootie's flu shot. Apply makeup at each red light and point air conditioning vents at hair in effort to dry still-damp ends. Offspring occupies herself by hurling pulverized Honeycombs to the floor. (Must vacuum this evening.)

8:30 a.m.: Leave doctor's office with sniffling Tootie who refers repeatedly to her boo-boo. Still 15 minutes away from the day care when tot develops a sudden thirst for milk. Sippy cup filled with water will not suffice. Search frantically for mee-mee (pacifier) while hurtling down highway. Arrive at day care with water stains on shirt and Honeycomb crumbs plastered to butt.

8:45: a.m.: On way to Tootie's class when we pass pumpkins from pumpkin-decorating contest. Am horrified by stark contrast between entries. Our pumpkin is a simple affair. Accessories include construction paper, gift-wrap ribbon and stickers. Other pumpkins, however, are wearing outfits! Wonder fleetingly which mommies actually have time to sew costumes for a large round vegetable...? Or is pumpkin a fruit? Pray that Tootie will not be traumatized by memories of her deficient pumpkin.

8:50 a.m.: Day care teacher asks whether I will be returning to help out with Halloween festivities. Assure her I will come back for afternoon party before rushing out the door.

9:15 a.m.: Have just sat down at desk with cup of tea when day care teacher calls in search of parent volunteers for Halloween carnival. Carnival begins at 9:40. Cannot possibly do this. Apologize profusely to teacher.

9:35 a.m.: Am overcome with guilt. Leave for day care, resolving to stay only 15 minutes. Call spouse to tell him he will have to find a Halloween costume for Tootie as I will no longer have time to look during lunch hour. Remind him that ballerinas need pink tights. Remind him costume must be purchased today as Tootie has been invited to a day care classmate's Halloween/birthday party on Saturday.

9:45 a.m.: Second call to Hubs reveals he, too, lacks time to costume-shop. Am consumed with guilt and panic. Daughter will be only toddler at party without costume. And other toddlers likely are spawn of mommies who have time to sew glittering ensembles for pumpkins.

9:50 a.m.: Am assigned to help run the "bakery" booth. Spend next 1 1/2 hours showing tiny folk how to make pretend cookies out of neon-yellow Play-Doh.

11:15 a.m.: Leave carnival. Attempt to dig play-dough out from under fingernails during drive back to work. Notice that water-stained shirt also boasts dried specks of play-dough. Resolve to begin carrying spare outfit in car.

1 p.m.: Suddenly remember I have not RSVP'd for Halloween/birthday party. Cannot possibly attend as last-minute notice would be rude. Feel guilt for depriving young daughter of socialization opportunity. Feel relieved that I will not have to mingle with mommies who turn out pumpkins resembling works of Michelangelo.

5:30 p.m.: Pick up Tootie from day care. Sugar-fueled daughter is laden with gift bags containing baked goods and carefully chosen toddler toys. Hasty count reveals that I am only mommy who did not make gift bags for daughter's classmates. Did not realize that Halloween now ranks up there with Christmas and Valentine's. Is simple night of trick-o-treating no longer adequate? Am overwhelmed by fears that gift bags are norm for every holiday and - yikes! - Veterans' Day approacheth... Resolve to make turkey gift bags to avoid similar embarrassment at Thanksgiving.

6 p.m.: Am struck during evening news by this thought: Had George W. Bush hired Perfect Mommies to oversee operations in Iraq, 380 tons of explosives wouldn't be missing. Instead, explosives would be carefully packaged in oversized gift bags, topped with jaunty, homemade bows and handed out to members of White House administration.

Two weeks later: Pulverized Honeycombs still decorate floor of car. Really, really must vacuum.