Published December 31, 2007 09:26 pm - Things got bad at my house the other night when I injured myself because I was ironing while putting on panty hose. The doctor says the burns will heal but my daughter Shannon had to perform an intervention.
Hi, my name is Kelly and I’m a multi-task-aholic
By Kelly Kazek
kelly@athensnews-courier.com
Whew.
It's amazing how suddenly light I feel ... can you hold on while I finish painting this last fingernail? Oh, and there's the phone ...
Back now. Sorry.
Since experts in news reports stated that — much like drinking, smoking weed or reasoning with a teenager — multi-tasking can actually decrease your brain function, I have tried to stay on the one-thing-at-a-time wagon. The only problem is, I fall off whenever I try to text message while putting on mascara.
Oh, like you haven't done it.
I figure, if we weren’t supposed to eat lunch while driving, God wouldn’t have put those handy little drink holders in cars.
Moms multi-task by instinct. Any mom worth her "I (heart) you” Mother’s Day necklace learns to change a diaper while holding her nose and opening the lid to the Diaper Genie or to find the one clean pair of underwear in the bottom of a teen’s closet while making out the grocery list.
It’s called "Survivor: Parenting Island.”
Sure, our brains are on overload and we can’t remember anything. I compensate by writing myself little sticky notes and putting them on my computer (maybe that’s why I can never read the screen) and leaving voice messages: "Hi, Kelly. It’s me. Kelly. Just wanted to remind you about that doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”
I’m usually pretty polite to myself, but some days ...
Things got bad at my house the other night when I injured myself because I was ironing while putting on panty hose. The doctor says the burns will heal but my daughter Shannon had to perform an intervention.
"Mom,” she said. “Don’t you think it’s time you focused on one thing at a time? The first step is admitting you have a problem.”
I pointed to the cell phone permanently stuck in her hand, made claw-like from sleeping with it clutched that way, and the thumb that no longer straightens because of long, time-consuming text messages describing the latest drama at school (like why on God’s little green acre Cindy thought bangs would be a good look for her.)
Shannon slunk away like the name-calling pot she is.
Still, I want to be a good role model.