Multi-tasking

At 8 a.m. I drop the boys off at crèche: quick trip to the Baby room (2-minute chat about the weather and the appropriateness of a long-sleeved sleepsuit as opposed to a sleeveless one); quick trip to the "Bigs" room (2-minutes' coaxing of 2 yr-old, gentle persuasion aimed at extracting said child from the folds of my dress); rush back to the car, forgetting to remove blue plastic crèche shoes.

At 10 a.m., I have a 6-page annual financial report to translate: head-aching succession of specialist financial terms to search for / guess at; hours and hours of Googling and brain-racking, courageous attempt to undertsand words such as "sundry" and "contingent liabilities".

At 1 p.m., I have a meeting at BB's future school: discussion about potty training and confidence building and vegetarianism and socialising and when can you come and spend a day here with him? Is a Monday morning OK?
I nod, smile, agree, accomodate... and at 1.30 p.m. I jump back in the car and rush back to the office, eating a half-cold cheese panini with one hand on the steering wheel.

At 3 p.m., I'm back with the "contingent liabilities": 2-hour proof-reading session with my boss, including perusal of bilingual financial reports dating back to 1995.

At 5.05 p.m., I email the translation to the Director's secretary, just 5 minutes behind schedule. Shut down my computer and hurry back to the car: have left the building before Windows has even gone to sleep.

At 5.45 p.m., I'm back in the Baby room, head spinning with "non-trade receivables and refundable launch aid"... struggling to tune right back in to the discussion about sleepsuits and nappies and the consistency of baby poo.

Such is the daily lot of a "working mother".
It all boils down to one thing: multi-tasking.
There should be a degree in it.

9 p.m.: day-dreaming about a simpler life. Resolve to become less pragmatic the older I get.
Motion discussed and validated by FH.