This morning, I had an unplanned crashcourse on juggling– you know, the balancing act that is life.  With a broken boot in hand, it feels like I bombed.

Not too long ago, I was reading an article that profiled some uber gorgeous model who was fantastically rich and privileged and worked long hours for being beautiful.  The said model, who recently had a her second child, said something that was surprisingly quite prolific.  “For most working women, motherhood and life is a constant balancing act.  No matter how hard you try, it won’t always be balanced perfectly.  Sometimes, it’ll be 40/60 other times it’ll be 30/70.  But as a mother, it’s your duty to recognize which falls first.”

I read this article while I was still blissfully pregnant, oblivious to how hard everything would really be.  I kept telling all my girlfriends that I was determined to make it all happen– the ostentatious career, the booming social life, the well-rounded child and of course that dynamo relationship with the husband.

Who knew that I’d ever take a model’s words to heart?

In contrast to a beautiful weekend spent doing holiday things with my boys, I had such a terrible morning. First of all, my mom’s bus was over an hour late, which in turn made Jeff late since he goes into the City to pick her up.  Once they finally get back to our place, I’m running around like crazy to get dressed, make sure Jack is fed and make sure he has enough food for the day since I won’t get home until probably 9pm. And of course, I go to make coffee, toast a bagel and sterilize my pump parts and the goddamn fuse blows.
Of course it does.

Meanwhile, Jack is peacefully sleeping in his crib, doing that sleep-smile thing he does so well.

So, here I am in just my robe and a towel with no electricity. The circuit breaker is downstairs in the landlord’s apartment and of course only Jeff has the number bc I’m a jackass. But you know what? Jeff already left for work.

It took about an hour for the electricity to come back on and at that point, I’m sure I had tears streaming down my face. Not only had I hung up on my husband because I was bitter that he could leave for work, I had thoughts of my magazine deadlines that needed to go out the door the first thing this morning… and all I could hear was that resonating rumble of the bus outside our window that came and went without me every 10 minutes.

Ultimately, I knew I had no choice but to stick around to make sure the electricity came back on. It’s not like I could leave my mom and kid literally in the dark.

I was disgruntled and exhausted and it wasn’t even 9am yet.
And just when things couldn’t get any worse, as I was walking to work, I noticed my heel was wobbly. I looked down at the back of my boot and saw the heel all ragged–it turns out, the heel on my favorite black boots had just died.

Now that I’ve had several hours to breathe and regroup (somewhat) I realize that I still have a lot of learning to do– especially in the “you’re only human” category. On days like today and thanks to some wise words from some very awesome girlfriends, I have to remind myself that it’s all about Jack and Jeff and making us work. 
The rest is just extra.