Why mommy needs two minutes, and 5 minutes of meditation

I wish I'd written this. Why didn't I write this? I'm so lazy. Why hasn't new client returned emails? I'm sure I'm fired. Oh, client gave three more assignments. If I was good they would have given me four. How am I going to write three assignments by Friday? The kids need shots by Friday so they can go to summer camp and graduate from college in 10 years. I like sleeping with the twins in our bed. Why are they sleeping at 4 in the afternoon? They must have polio because I didn't get their shots on time. Do I have the number of the other mothers we hung out with this morning? I think I still have that CDC contact from that assignment two years ago. I'm sure they are fine. How am I going to meet deadline, interview Giada and tell the other mothers I can't make splash park? I should write thank you notes for all the times the attentive mothers have invited us out. Giada might have an idea about thank you notes. Is that a story idea? She was so nice at the opening. Why didn't I take more pictures? This is why I'm not more successful, lack of technological where with all. Is where with all a phrase? I'll have to look it up. I look too much stuff up. Why didn't I pay more attention in college? I can't remember anything. I blame it on the twins, poor things. They'll grow up thinking it's their fault their mother can't remember general phrases and cliches, or their doctor's appointment. We'll be late, of course, but I'll blame it on my job, or my mother. I should send the author of this Huffington Post article a thank you note. 

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/bunmi-laditan/5-minutes-in-a-moms-head_b_5445948.html?ncid=fcbklnkushpmg00000037

The Weight of Minutes Within Our 24 Hours

There are not enough hours in the day to get done what you need to get done on your adult to-do list. And there just aren't enough hours in the day to do all that there is to really do when you're a kid. I had to stop on a particularly patience-trying day and listen: My son told me that I'm his best friend when I took the time to puzzle the United States with him. My daughter chanted 'mom, mom, mom' when I stopped working to help them with a tea party that included Otter pops. That was a good day. There were a few other good scenes that stuck out as the days of moving, closing, taxing, graduating, working and shopping for more carrots than you'd think a boy of 45 pounds could eat, blurred by. 

Scene: Luncheon with the twins 
Jack:Mommy, I ate all, everything healthy.
Me: You only ate the pizza.
Jack: But it was healthy!
Me: Eat your vegetables and you can have a popsicle.
Jack: But I have to build.
Me: You need vegetables to build.
Jack:I just want to be back later.
Me: Why?
Jack: Because I will build something that eats my vegetables.

Do they make a Lego set for that?

Scene: Morgan attempts to share

Morgan: I want a popsicles. It's for Jack.
Me: You just had a popsicle.
Morgan: So did Jack.
Me: Then you don't need a popsicle.
Morgan: But my tummy says it wants popsicles, it's not for me. (Big dramatic sigh.)


Four-year-old show of respect

Jack put on loafers and underwear to greet his father returning from the work world. I encouraged him to put on a shirt, which he begrudgingly agreed to. Jack, not Scott, if that wasn't clear. My nudist son realizes that clothes = some sort of respect in our adult world. You're welcome, so says he.