Saturday, October 16, 2010

Paging Super Mommy, 15 Minutes Before Air

You know that scene in "Broadcast News" where Joan Cusack sprints to the control room in order to get a tape on air? That was me in my previous life. 
Now it's more of a cross between getting slimed on "You Can't Do That On Television" and running the obstacle course on "Double Dare" -- I know, totally breaking out the '80s references today... Maybe I'm missing my youth. 

On Friday my two worlds -- past and present -- collided when I went back to work, my first day as a freelance producer.  
I'm happy to report that it was nice being back, although I'm glad I'll be spending most of my time as a stay-at-home mom, despite it being the most difficult job in the world and the fact that there's so much poop involved.
I spent Friday reading up on the latest deficit numbers and China's status as a currency manipulator, instead of reciting lines from "Good Night Sweet Butterflies" and "Ten Little Ladybugs."
I was able to eat my lunch slowly and peacefully, rather than piece by piece while trying to bounce Mackenzie on my hip. 
I didn't have to refer to myself in the third person or announce that I was going to pee. 
These tiny morsels of freedom were like a spa weekend in Napa Valley. 

But I still had one very important mommy duty to take care of. I needed to "Pump Up The Jam."  (Wow - I really need to break out the Debbie Gibson hat, Wigwam socks, and sport a side pony tail today.)

So PUTJ Sessions One and Two were a success.  Session three was a little tricky. 

I finished my lead news package at 5:30 p.m., a half hour before air time. 
I was determined to get one more pump in before I left for the day and figured I was in the clear.  I had 30 minutes, I needed 10. No problem, right?

Halfway into PUTJ Session - Part 3, I heard the assignment desk editor calling my name over the in-house PA system.  At the same moment I got a frantic message from my reporter telling me we needed to fix the top of the piece due to an oversight. 
It was 5:45 and I was sitting in an empty office with two fog horns attached to my chest.  
Whoever coined the phrase, "Don't cry over spilled milk" never nursed a baby.  Those maternity ward nurses had it right; that stuff is liquid gold and every drop counts. 
So as I fumbled with the plastic tubing and half-full bottles while struggling to remove my nippleless pump bra (very attractive by the way) I couldn't help but wish I were home, in my sweats, teeth unbrushed, holding Mackenzie and doing this the easy way.

Alas, the life of a mommy is never easy.
We work hard, at home and in the office. 
We make sure our kids get the best nourishment, go to the best schools, and have the best life possible.
We put our children first and think of ourselves last.
We would sacrifice everything for them.  And someday they'll do the same for their kids.
We shed blood, sweat, and tears without batting an eye and no one ever thanks us. 
So, mommies... take a deep breath and exhale.  You'll make air; you just might have to trudge through an obstacle course of slime on your way.

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