The ball juggler

 Since February, I have been strutting into a fabulous office, to do a fabulous job, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to conquer the day at this incredible award winning genuinely professional communications agency. 

And let me tell you, this place is like the Olympics of professionalism—energetic, dedicated, and responsive, just like yours truly.

Let's talk about the boss lady. She's like the superhero version of who I want be when I grow up—smart, hilarious, down-to-earth, and has enough energy to power a small city.  An inspirational leader (who is younger than me, but let's leave that alone).

I'm not exactly living that glamorous life. I'm a single mom to two not so tiny terrors who make mornings feel like a battlefield. Getting my moody teen out of bed is like trying to convince a bear to do ballet. And then there's the epic showdown of getting dressed, where I'm basically the ringmaster in a circus of chaos.

Meanwhile, the 11 year old baby is wandering around, wondering if ironed clothes are just a myth and if I will ever defeat the beast called bedhead. It's not looking good.

So, here's the plan: I'll wait it out, hope for the best, and pray for a miracle until the kids are a bit more independent. Then, and only then, will I unleash my inner visionary leader on the world.

For now, I'm rocking the title of the greatest working single mother of the year. I've got all the bases covered—clean house (sometimes), ironed clothes (on a good day), cooked meals (pasta and cheese counts right?), and chauffeur duty on lock. My kids are getting a truckload of love and soft edges.

So, if you see me at work, giving it my all but not exactly schmoozing with the big shots, just know that I'm juggling enough balls to keep even the world's best juggler at bay. 

Who else is in the same boat?

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