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Disaster
Day
Mothers are
flexible. We are trained by our children
to manage change. Mothers who work outside
the home accomplish amazing things in the course of a workday.
We jump through hoops to please clients, teachers, and kids,
meet project deadlines in spite of doctor’s appointments,
homework projects, and neurotic pets. Mothers who work from
a home based office however, realize yet another
challenge--how to maintain a razor sharp focus in spite
of disastrous surroundings.
Our kitchen is filled
with dirty pans and dishes, which my teenaged daughter refused
to wash. I’m used to ignoring dirty dishes. I just
go downstairs to my office and work while they wait. It
takes a much stronger constitution to think creatively at
the computer while our three bathrooms are being remodeled.
This project includes ripping out old tubs, hammering
new walls, sanding rough surfaces, and other sounds such
as the happy whistling and endless banter of the carpenter
and plumber.
On this particular
day, my eight-year-old son, John, didn’t go to school
as usual. His 8:40 AM doctor’s appointment allowed
him to sleep an extra hour while I mulled over the
outline for my presentation on How to Handle Life’s
Challenges without the Overwhelm. I wouldn’t
be able to work on my presentation until I returned him
to school at 9:30. John sat at the kitchen table, crunching
a mouthful of cereal.
“Did you get
the miniature pumpkin?” he asked, slurping the milk
from his bowl. I stared at him blankly.
“Remember
the one I told you I had to have?” he continued.
Oh, yes. Was it
last week he mentioned this fact in passing?
“It’s
due TODAY!”
THAT piece of information
was new. We had 40 minutes until the doctor’s visit.
I bargained with John. “You finish breakfast and feed
the dogs … I’ll
run to the store for a miniature pumpkin.”
John’s
assignment was to transform the pumpkin into a fairytale
character housed in a shoebox environment. He
had chosen the Little Tin Soldier. I dashed home with
the pumpkin and rummaged through my craft supplies. Together
we constructed a black paper hat with gold trim and anchored
it in place with two toothpicks. John drew a lopsided
face with a marker and painted the whites of the eyes.
We had five minutes to make
the 10-minute trip to the doctor’s office. By now,
of course, I had misplaced my car keys.
After 10 minutes of
frantic searching, I remembered that my husband keeps a
spare key to my car in his dresser drawer. We arrived only
five minutes late to the medical practice. The nurse whisked
us into the doctors examining office where John commenced
the furious coloring of his shoebox, an honest effort for
a kid who dislikes crafty projects. John interrupted
my mental dialogue with a panicked announcement. “We
can’t go to school after this! I left the pumpkin
at home!”
Mothers
are multi-tasked. While listening to the doctor’s
instructions for taking antibiotics, I began re-formulating
my mental schedule to allow for the long wait at the pharmacy
and a return trip home. Reading my mind, the young family
doctor ran after me as I left, waving a bottle of sample
pills that would delay the drugstore trip. I
almost kissed him with gratitude.
I begged the red lights to change to green;
John upped my adrenaline. “Today is Mrs.
Wasserman’s birthday and we are having a surprise
party for her. I need a present.”
No problem. An organized girlfriend taught me
the knack of keeping emergency gifts on hand.
I can still have John at school and salvage five
hours for my presentation.
We approached our
house now flanked by two work trucks. The carpenter and
plumber had arrived. We could hear our medium-sized dog
barking in the kitchen where I had shut her in before leaving
since she easily escapes the back yard.
I began detailing
to John our quick trip into the house as we jumped out of
the car.
“You
grab the pumpkin, and I’ll wrap a present.”
“Okay,
Mom.”
John was happily cooperative
during crises that demanded teamwork. He spied the pumpkin
on the windowsill next to the car keys. Great. Now wrap
the present and we’re on our way. Scissors…where
are the scissors? I opened the kitchen door
and froze. Our black and white mutt cowered in the corner.
Upon hearing the drill of the carpenter, she had
chewed three doorframes into splinters and clawed deep wedges
all over the three doors that entered the kitchen from different
sides. The damage far exceeded the cost of a kennel
which we had ruled out as too expensive for a day’s
use. It also far exceeded the cost of remodeling all three
bathrooms, including two new tubs.
I still had a presentation
to prepare, rehearse and deliver. I
surrendered to the only logical solution under such conditions.
I changed the topic. |
Known
as The Alligator Queen, Ana Tampanna coaches women to wrestle the alligators
in life and at work. Ana reinvented herself from starving artist to an
international personality featured in the LA Times, on NBC primetime,
and even Japan television. As a working mother, Ana managed her family
through multiple crises and a tragedy. Her saucy, playful style brings
laughter while her interactive presentations help people to connect from
the heart and create better life strategies. Ana is a member of the National
Speaker’s Association, and has authored three books including The
Womanly Art of Alligator Wrestling: Inspirational Stories for Outrageous
Women Who Survive by Their Wisdom and Wit. 
Legacy
Life Skills Coach