So, I'm in the shower this morning, late, after my husband has already left for work, because I've spent my early morning furiously formatting an interview for MOMocrats, and in quite a hurry, because I've got got a busy day ahead. An old friend is coming over this afternoon who needs my help with publicity for a new project, I've got one or two posts to get up for the St. Louis Bloggers' Guild, I've got a house that looks pretty unkempt after a weekend spend staying out all day at various meetings end errands on Saturday and staying out all day celebrating Father's Day.
And in all this, I still need to get my kid fed, entertained, etc., for the day.
So I'm pretty stressed, actually, over all the things I have to do today, and this moment in the shower is my brief time to collect my thoughts, probably the only non-working moment I'll have to myself for the next several hours. I'm trying to enjoy it.
And suddenly, through the rush of water, I hear my son screaming, "MOMMY! MOOOOOMMMMMY!" loudly from the other room, not quite like he's hurt but like there's something really important happening in the living room that needs my immediate attention. Like maybe some stranger is knocking on the door. Or maybe the kid has spilled milk all over the couch. Or maybe the house is on fire.
So I leap out of the shower, still covered with soap, my hair slathered up in conditioner, toss a towel around myself, and dash out of the bathroom, dripping water on the hardwood in the hall, and say, "Isaac! Isaac! What is it? What's wrong?" He's sitting on the couch, with a book on his lap. PBS is on the TV. I can't see any obvious disaster.
"I need your help, Mommy!" His voice is serious, urgent.
"Yes? Yes? What do you need?"
"Mommy, I was reading this book, and I couldn't remember-- what does 'miniature' mean again?"
Clearly I need to work more with him to clarify the difference between an INTELLECTUAL emergency, and an ACTUAL emergency.