Last night as I arrived at my in law’s house for the Passover Seder I got an email from my contact at the PR agency managing the ConAgra Foods Child Hunger Ends Here campaign. She wanted to know what my plans were for the neighborhood rally I’m supposed to be organizing. Moments after I received an email from my supervisor at Tiny Prints with a question about the big Twitter contest that we rolled out today. C and Little L were running around like hungry little maniacs. Family members who hadn’t been together in years were gleefully greeting each other.
Instead of hyperventilating on the spot, I stepped outside for a moment.
I sent a few hasty Black Berry emails that essentially said “I’m on it, but I’m shutting down for a few hours. I’ll get back to you after the seder.” and then I took some deep breaths.
I pushed off the mounting stress and went back into the party.
Thanks to some delicious wine and sheer exhaustion the stress didn’t return until bright and early this morning when it completely took over my brain. When I stepped into the shower I was humming with stress. And while the hot steam usually helps me to master the panic, this morning it didn’t work.
By the time I opened my computer I was so frazzled I had no idea what to do first.
Contest? Rally? Email? Phone?
300 unread emails called to me. The need to call to find a place to hold my rally screamed at me. The final tasks for the contest couldn’t be ignored. And amongst all that two little girls needed Cheerios, asthma treatments, and some serious hair brushing. Not to mention the fact that they were feeding on my stress and had turned up the whine and neediness to match the buzzing in my head.
A complete and utter working mommy meltdown was a short ten seconds away from happening when I remembered Captain Awesome.
He’s that guy. The perfect one. The one who always knows what to do in any situation, never gets flapped, never gets nervous. He deals with every new situation with a smile and a “can ace this” attitude.
He’s not real, but he doesn’t have to be. He just has to live in your head, so that when things get to that “I can’t do this!” level of hysteria you can stop and say “OK, fine. Maybe I can’t do this, but Captain Awesome can. What would he do in my situation.”
This morning Captain Awesome would have sat down and made a to do list. Then he would have gone through it, item by item, facing each item head on with a smile, not worrying about the next item until the one he was working on was crossed off the list.
So that’s just what I did.
By the time I gathered up the girls, put their shoes on, and ushered them out the door I had taken care of the most stressful items on my list, I had made a plan for the rest of the day, and I had even gotten the girls ready without a sharp word or an exasperated sigh.
Once again Captain Awesome saved the day. Love that guy.