Feature Post

Confessions of a Multitasking Mom

Written by Mama Zen from The Zen of Motherhood

When I hear the phrase “multitasking mom,” I get an instant mental picture. I picture a smiling, put-together woman exercising on the treadmill, working her Blackberry, and effortlessly wrangling her children, all at the same time. If only I were that cool! Oh, don’t get me wrong; I can multitask like the most Alpha of moms if I have to. It’s just that my best multitasking takes place . . . on the toilet.

That’s right, on the toilet. Since I became a mom, I have learned how to fully utilize my time on the throne. Here are my secrets for making the most out of one’s potty breaks.

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Confessions of a Multitasking Mom

Written by Mama Zen from The Zen of Motherhood

When I hear the phrase “multitasking mom,” I get an instant mental picture. I picture a smiling, put-together woman exercising on the treadmill, working her Blackberry, and effortlessly wrangling her children, all at the same time. If only I were that cool! Oh, don’t get me wrong; I can multitask like the most Alpha of moms if I have to. It’s just that my best multitasking takes place . . . on the toilet.

That’s right, on the toilet. Since I became a mom, I have learned how to fully utilize my time on the throne. Here are my secrets for making the most out of one’s potty breaks.

• Think deep thoughts. When else will you have the chance?
“Why can’t there be an end to conflict in the Middle East?”
“Why does the girl at the grocery store keep charging me for zucchini when I’ve clearly got cucumbers?”
“Why didn’t I realize that there was no toilet paper before I sat down?”

• Negotiate peace. This will require you to yell at top volume, so it is also fine exercise for the lungs.
“Baby Puppy, mind your Daddy.”
“Tell Daddy I said it’s OK.”
“I said it’s OK!”

• Direct all household activities. Take a moment to bask in the glow of being needed.
“The Shrek Baby is on top of your dresser. Next to the penguin!”
“There’s a new bag of Cheetos in the pantry.”
“Would one of you, please, let the dog out!”

• Tend to personal grooming.
Clip toenails.
Measure your leg hair (ok, that’s just for fun).
Examine that weird mole thingy on your calf.

• Talk on the phone.
Um, yeah. That “whoosh” sound you heard last time you called? Well, now you know.

These are just a few of the tricks that I use to maximize my “potty productivity.” Finding time to pee? Well, if anyone knows that secret, please clue me in!

When she’s not servicing her man or caring for her four-year-old daughter, Mama Zen can be found blogging at The Zen of Motherhood. That is, if she’s not hiding in the bathroom!

Dear Editor

Written by Mama Zen from The Zen of Motherhood

Editor

Top Blog Mag

Dear Editor,

I recently received your call for submissions for the upcoming issue of Top Blog Mag. While I find “Thinking About” to be an intriguing theme with numerous possibilities, I’m afraid that I must decline to participate at this time.

You see, dear Editor, when I started thinking about what I’m thinking about, I found that I couldn’t think of a damn thing! Some would call it writer’s block, I guess. I prefer to think of it as having an uncluttered mind.

Anyway, I tried, I really did. I tried funny. I’m a stay-at-home mom; I trip over funny all day long. Just this morning, I caught my daughter beating the dog with a foam baseball bat. When I scolded her, she indignantly informed me, “Snoopy is pretending to be a piñata!” Great source material, but I just couldn’t make it work.

I tried serious. God knows there’s plenty of serious stuff to write about. Young men and women, barely out of their teens, dying overseas in a war that . . .oh wait, the electricians here. OK, and the current administration just keeps . . .hang on, telephone. And the hypocrisy of the whole Scooter . . .”coming!” Now, how the hell am I supposed to focus on the burning issues of our time, when I can barely concentrate on not burning the pork chops?

Finally, I tried personal. I don’t really do a lot of personal. I don’t write about the sweet, slow burn of whiskey. Or the twilight breeze against my bare back. Or mumbled words. Or fumbled buttons. Or the peculiar restlessness that seems to strike me this time of year. I just don’t. Too many people do personal far better than I do, so I just leave it alone.

As you can see, dear Editor, I am in writer’s hell. All I can think about is that blank screen taunting me and daring me to just try and fill it. And, I got nothing. Nothing at all.

I apologize for any inconvenience, and good luck with the upcoming issue.

Sincerely,

Mama Zen

When she’s not rescuing puppies or starting kitchen fires, Mama Zen blogs through her writer’s block at The Zen of Motherhood.

Me and My Foreshadow

Written by Mama Zen from The Zen of Motherhood

A funny thing happened to me on my way to Edie. I ended up Lynette, instead.

I’m talking about Desperate Housewives, of course. A weekly break from reality that has become my reality. A cast of suburban stereotypes that I find strangely reflective of my own journey through life.

I guess I should explain.

First, you have Edie. Single and basically childless, she’s all about herself, her career, and . . . herself. In my younger days, I was pretty much Edie. But then, I got married and became . . .

Gabrielle. Young and sexy and very, very spoiled. Nice clothes, nice house, hot husband (ok, she’s divorced now, but you get the idea). Been there, done that. Good times, such good times, until I got pregnant and decided that I must become . . .

Bree. Obsessively perfect super mom. Gourmet meals. Spotless house. Model children (at first glance, anyway). All without a hair out of place. I accomplished this lofty, ego-driven goal . . .for about five minutes! Then, just as I was about to drive myself stark raving, soap-opera quality mad, reality set in, and I became . . .

Lynette. Here, we have life as a stay-at-home mom (all right, last season, work with me here). Sippy cups and sweatpants. Diapers and dishes. Chaos and crisis management. This is not Hallmark motherhood. This is adoring your kids, but realizing and admitting that motherhood is, generally, a thankless bitch. Good thing I like Lynette; these days, when I look in the mirror, that’s who I see.

Finally, there’s Susan. Sweet, loopy, artistic Susan. When I watch Susan in action each week, I feel like I’m getting a glimpse of my future. Why? Well, it’s not because she has an enviable creative career, though I am envious. And, it’s certainly not because she’s gorgeous, though I envy that, too. No, I see my future self in Susan because she is the mother of a teenage daughter and ditzy as all hell. Ten years from now, when motherhood has taken what’s left of my mind and left me a blithering idiot, I will be Susan.

Who says you can’t learn anything from trashy TV?

Mama Zen spends her days immersed in suburban housewifery and child rearing. She chronicles her efforts to figure out how the hell THAT happened at www.thezenofmotherhood.blogspot.com.