You know that stereotypical stay-at-home-mom, the one we all love to hate? Her name is Buffy and she's got her paws in the PTO, the Junior League, and every bake sale known to man. Her presence is felt at her children's school on a weekly basis and she's constantly driving someone somewhere. Yeah, that's me, except for the Junior League part. I get points for that, right?
Right now I'm in the bitten-off-more-than-I-can-chew phase of my rock star stay-at-home-mom stint. I'm in charge of food at my son's school's Fall Festival and 1st grade parents just don't seem to want to volunteer, I've got assignments coming out of my ears, I've got a 6-month-old-baby, my minivan (could I be more of a cliché?) is in the shop, and the departure time for my long-awaited Disney World trip just happens to fall on the same date as my son's Fall Festival. I could list all of the other things I'm up to my knees in but I think I've played my martyr card enough today and, let's face it, nobody likes a martyr, especially the stay-at-home-mom variety. Right now I'm contemplating coping mechanisms. I'm torn between a 45 minute stint on the treadmill and some aggressive phone calls or a large glass of cabernet and a nap. Right now the latter is winning. Help!