I'm an Oxy Moron

WARNING: this post is full of self-gratified back-patting. Because this never happens, I simply had to record it for future reference.

There is no such thing as a Salaried Part-Time Job.
Anybody who has one knows it's an oxymoron, like "jumbo shrimp" or "soft rock"... or "family vacation". It's a myth, a fairytale.

The SPTJ I have is absolutely wonderful seven months out of the year: complete flexibility with the hours I am in the office, the whole month of December off, and another month in the spring. Plus I can work from home any of the days that I arrange ahead of time. Not to mention I love what I do and it's a big part of who I am. That's any parent's DREAM job!

But when May - September comes around those who know me are fully aware of my tendency to be... absent. Any spare time I have is willingly (and yes, guiltily) given to my family. Sometimes it gets rough, but I always have that light at the end of the tunnel, that glorious ghost of October 1st to pull me through the really bad patches. Those are the five months that I get a taste of what it's like to really juggle the professional BookMamma with the personal BookMamma. And dudes, there are times where it just about KILLS me.

But not today!

I'm supposed to be off on Fridays, but I have to bend that rule this time of year. The boys were both in a great mood and I was taking advantage of it! I had a full day planned with Finn & Eli - and was determined we were going to have FUN DAMMIT.

Lunch with fun aunts! Balloons! Bookstore with train track! Cookie snack! Playing in the Children's Fountain! Carousel rides!

Fun, fun, FUN!

Then the phone started ringing. And ringing. And ringing.
And I had to pick it up. It's the exchange I knowingly give to have this SPTJ.

But did the FUN! stop? Oh, no. No way.
BookMamma engages in (surprise!) conference call with Very Famous Person and city school board, whilst main-lining a dirty chai and playing the tragic role of Sir Topham Hat, left to die on the train tracks after a collision with Thomas.

For over 20 minutes - and neither party finding out they were not exclusive.

Act II consisted of playing until the boys got so tired they crashed in the car. I seized the opportunity to dash into the local public radio station and record a quick PSA for work. A friend works the reception desk and she kept an eye on the cool car full of sleeping beasties from her desk by the glass door. It took all of six minutes and the boys never even woke up.

This is one of the few days that it ALL worked seamlessly. If my life had a soundtrack, "Eye of the Tiger" would be blaring.



So... how long do you think I can keep this up?
Um, wait... don't answer that. I choose ignorance and bliss.