Daring escape from the office
And chaotic it is. I've been here in the newsroom since 9:30 this morning and just finished editing what I hope is the last story that needs my attention today. We've had no shortage of death-related stories this week.
It's already 10 minutes in to my son's baseball practice. Despite the fact I told my husband this morning we could "all go to practice together," there was no surprise in his voice when I called at quarter till 7 and said, "I'll have to meet you there honey!" Par for the course. Ten years in, and he knows so much better than I do the blackhole I get sucked into as soon as I enter the newsroom in the morning. God bless him; that's all I can say.
If I close this introductory post here, I can still make the second half of my son's practice and get home to throw together what I can pass as a healthy family dinner (frozen meatballs thrown in some spaghetti sauce from a jar and heated in the microwave with whatever kind of pasta I can dig out of the cupboard, and some sort-of fresh broccoli on the side).
Super Mom I am not, but they love me the same — at least they say so.