I haven't written in a long, long time. I barely have time to breathe let alone write about it. Two kids. A "part-time" (35 hours a week) job. No sleep. I'm running on empty.
But here's a little illustration of my state of mind that you might enjoy.
Today I had to give a presentation to the CEO, CFO and Chief Medical Officer of a hospital an hour and a half away. I stopped for gas because my tank (both actual and proverbial) was empty. With my boss in the passenger seat, I blew straight through that little 'click' that tells you to let go of the goddamn handle and stop pumping. Gasoline burst out in all directions. On the car, the ground and, yes, on my pants and shoes.
Even then it took me a moment to take my hand off the nozzle.
I rinsed the side of the car with the window washer after the gas stopped bubbling out.
"Am I going to set us on fire if I start the car again?" I asked my colleague, who had stepped out of the car upon hearing me scream. "It's on my pants."
"Um, I'll go get someone," he replied.
"It's okay, lady," said the guy pumping gas behind me. "Just don't light up a cigarette for a couple of days."
I still drove up (with the window cracked open) and gave my presentation.
That's how moms do.