What do you do all day mommy?

Monday was cruising along as most Mondays do for me, a lot of “catch up on this, make a phone call to them,” type of thing.

One of the attorneys I work for wanders past me in the hall and this is the exchange:

Random Attorney: So, is that thing ready?
Me: What thing?
RA: The thing that Other Random Attorney was working on.
Me: <>
RA: Oh, that’s ok. I bet Other Random Attorney has it under control.

Any Legal Assistant/Paralegal/Secretary reading this will immediately break into a cold sweat. We all know what this means. I will translate it for those of you playing along at home. “Has it under control” loosely translates into “he/she will come running into your office in about an hour with his hair on fire and expect you to sprinkle magic fairy dust and get the project out the door.”

It is now 3:00.

As if on cue Other Random Attorney comes running with a large stack of documents. “Hey, we need to have this out the door by five—that cool?” “Yeah, sure.” I say while running figures in my head about the ten loose ends I need to tie up in addition to getting copies made and edits done to the document. It is 4:00 on the nose.

Half an hour later, I have one printer running, two copy machines going and I’m feeling like I might actually get Project One out the door in time. Cue Head Paralegal with a larger stack of documents. “Hi, Staz! I have Project Two ready. It needs to go today. Kay? Thanks! Bye!”

My left eye starts twitching…

I run down the hall with Project 2 when Big Shot Lawyer sees me coming down the hallway. “Gosh Staz. It looks like you’re busy” He says with a tone of voice that means “I’d be an asshole if I asked you to do something right now, but I really need something done.”

“No, BSL, I’m not busy. I’m exercising. In a suit. And heels. See? I get a great upper body workout if I take this stack of crap and fling it off the balcony. I bet the magic fairies you think work here will take care of the rest.” I say in my head. My mouth mutters something noncommittal. I am hoping if I offer to get back to him as soon as I’m done with Project 1 and Project 2 he will forget about me and head home for dinner.

“Well, when you’re finished with that, I just need you to get Project 3 out the door. Here it is—I typed it myself!” As if I’m going to offer him a cookie for being a good boy.

It is now 4:45---

Text Darling Husband “Don’t hold dinner.”

Project One gets gathered, sorted, enveloped and out the door.

Project Two gets edited, copied, gathered, sorted and ready to go out the door. When the postage machine breaks.

My other eye starts twitching…

I flutter my eyelashes at an intern who offers to take it to the post office for me. Project Two done.

It is now 5:30---

I look at Project Three. Ok, no big deal, needs some clean up ‘cause I hear judge types are picky about margins and stuff. Sigh.

Cue the announcement that our servers are going down for routine maintenance. In five minutes. I valiantly fight the urge to curl up under my desk in the fetal position. I am a professional. I can handle this.

Out comes the thumb drive. Dump documents and exhibits onto jump drive. Verify with IT that I can work off line. Ok. I’m back in business. I finish editing Project Three. Tie up the ten loose ends that go with that sort of thing. Print. Copy. Sort. Rinse and Repeat. Life is good, they have fixed the postage machine. Post, stack and…HEY! I can go home now!

It is now 7:15.

I head for home. Stop at post office. Dump Project Three. Light cigarette. Flick….aaaahhh.

Get home. I find that Darling Husband has a portion of dinner warm for me. Kissing ensues. I am putting the last bite of dinner in my mouth when my eldest child approaches me and says “Hey mom? Weren’t we going to go school shopping tonight?”

School? Shopping? Tonight? Oh crap. Well sign me up for mother of the year.

“yeah hon. Give me just a minute to finish dinner, ok?”

It is now 8:30.

I go shopping with Eldest Child. To Megamart. Sigh. We get almost everything she needs. We spend $110. We come home.

It is now 10:45.

Send Eldest Child to bed. Check on Youngest Child sleeping soundly. Kiss Darling Husband. Head out of doors. Light cigarette. Flick….aaaaahhh.

Some people ask me why I haven’t been able to quit smoking yet. Nope, not really a mystery to me. Hey, don’t get me wrong. I don’t blame my smoking on my job. It was a horrible habit I picked up many years ago and haven’t been able to put down. I never smoke in the house and never smoke out of doors if my children are with me. However, for five minute stretches—no one bothers me. That’s hard to give up.