I typically try to work from home on Fridays. I get a little time with the kids and can schedule household type appointments as well. Between preschool and naps, I can typically get about 3-4 hours of dedicated “groove time” to focus on work. But today I was reminded how delicate that balance really is and how quickly the best laid plans can go south (and I’m not referring to Georgia).

Today, I scheduled a conference call for 10:30. It wasn’t a client call, but it was relatively important. My sweet son slept in this morning for the first time in 5 months. I knew the typical 10 AM nap was doomed. I could smell disaster impending so I donned my best rally cap and formulated a plan.

Fifteen minutes prior to the call time, I filled two snack cups and one sippy. Food, the ultimate toddler diversion. Then I gated the staircase, closed the doors to all bedrooms and bathrooms and carefully constructed a ring of toys so enticing I was almost tempted to play myself. Lastly I moved my laptop, coffee (3rd cup), notebook and phone to a table where I had the best vantage spot to all accessible rooms. Brilliant. I almost broke my arm patting myself on the back. Let the games begin.

My sweet boy innocently and contently played while I waited for the phone to ring. 8 minutes passed without a peep of malcontent. The call was late.  The phone finally rang, my toddler looked up and I swear to you I saw a flicker of pure devil in his baby blue eyes. My heart shuddered.

2 minutes into the call: Wills initiated his favorite game of “bring Mommy toys”. My only job in this game is to take the toys and smile. I can do that. No problem. He brings a Hot Wheel. Smile. A book. Smile. A block. Smile. A 26″ fitness ball. Not smiling anymore.

5 minutes into the call: Wills is distracted by the sound of barking dogs outside. He darts to the window, mangles the blinds and upon seeing the canine source, begins barking back. Loudly. I remember thinking this was really cute about a month ago. Not so much as I smothered the mouthpiece of the phone and struggled to hear. Then it happened, “Shhhh!” escaped my lips and the two other participants in the call were stunned into silence. Sorry.

10 minutes in to the call: Wills whines and I pull out the big guns. Snacks. The first snack bowl was a bust. Ate one, fed one to the dog and then handed it back to me. Rats! Second bowl was dry sugared cereal. Don’t judge me. It’s a surefire hit. He smiled, took the bowl and headed for the family room. Ahh…I focused for three minutes and actually typed some notes before I heard crunching.

14 minutes: I look around the corner and note my son is stomping, crushing and obliterating the half a cup of cereal he dropped on the area rug. Crunch. Crunch. I bit my tongue hard and forced myself to remember the Dyson cures all. I can do this. Look away.

16 minutes: Wills attacks the recycle bin and liberates three days of newspapers and cardboard to the hallway where it makes a great obstacle course and lots of swishy noise.

18 minutes: He finishes his milk and launches his sippy cup in apparent celebration. It lands in the dog bowl spilling food and water under my feet. I jump in reflex. He cries in response. Craptastic. I pick him up to soothe him.

20 minutes: Wills recovers from the drama and focuses his attention on grabbing my pen, then the phone, then my earring…in desperation, I move to the nearest light switch and allow him to flip the hall light on and off repeatedly. Click. click. Click. click. Click. click. I complete my call with my pupils dilating rapidly while noting a phone number on my hand with the pen I hid in my pocket.

Call ends. Wills resumes happy toddler status. I check the clock. 20 minutes until preschool pickup. What just happened?

  • Share/Save/Bookmark