Working at home

Think multitasking is being on the phone while composing an email to your employees and IMing your boss while the photocopier runs off 100 of whatever so-and-so needs? That's so last year for me. Multitasking this morning has been emailing work, returning 6 messages (six! before 11 a.m.!) with the mute ON while people are talking and OFF when I'm talking so they aren't distracted by Clementine's lovely chatter or incessant song that emanates from her LeapFrog globe every time it's jostled, allowing her to rifle through my paid bills so I can finish posting reunion photos to the school's website and shoving ice cubes in her mouth to sooth her very sore gums (top two teeth on the way!) while trying to stay on top of my inbox. Know what would be better than working at home? Not working at all. Yup. I said it.

Yesterday I got to daycare to find Clementine in a too-big 1980s Garanimals Snoopy sweatshirt and too-small unmatching pants because she had pooped all over her other clothes. No big deal except we were off to a BBQ and it was at least 80 degrees outside. I stopped at TJ Maxx to get her something easy and cheap and cool but had to wait forever in a line of incompetence before trying to dress her in the trunk of my car. Then she fell asleep on the way and shat herself once again. I didn't have it in me to try to eat in my lap and keep her from jumping off the porch after the dogs at the BBQ, and since I didn't know anyone well enough to say "Here, watch my kid so I can jam some chow in my face," I went home early to eat with Nate. Today I have some odd pinched nerve in my neck that keeps me from being able to look to the left or pick up darling C. without totally wincing, and I'm trying desperately to pick up the slack from my boss' impending departure but still make it so I can be in Chicago on Monday and Tuesday as my friend recovers from surgery--I am her nursemaid. WTF?

Did I already say something about needing a summer break? Whatever happened to popsicles and flip flops, bike rides and picnics? Hell with wanting to be in college again--I want to be seven! Will someone pretty please make me a PB&J with the crusts cut off and bring it outside where I'll be practicing my penny drop on the bars?