Please, Don't Call Me Supermom

Yes, it's true I work upwards of 10 hours a day in an office as an editor (and who's even counting those after-hour edits in the comfort of my pajamas)--and still have time to be a wife and mother of two kids (one easy-going but sensitive kindergartner and one force-of-nature, demanding 1.5yo who thinks she owns the place).

Oh, and there's the dog. And the babysitters. And the three-train shuffle, also known as Wednesday evenings (it's really more a science than a shuffle: to make it to after-school program pick-up before my son deems me to be late, I must be on the subway platform no later than 5:01pm--at 5:02pm, I'm destined to be late--only to switch trains two stops later and again several more stops later and lord help the slowpoke in front of me as I make that last dash to train #3). And then there are my work "kids," the reporters I love and devote my weekdays to. And day care pick-up. Wait, no, I outsource that to a babysitter... and my husband. Except for Wednesdays (did I mention the three-train shuffle is followed by the one-train dash and four-block hustle to get to day care late, but not so late that they think I neglect my daughter?). And then there are the snacks for school... diapers for day care... homework that's been helped-with and checked... grocery shopping... dog-food-getting... tear-and-booger-wiping...and volunteering (mustn't forget that it's bad form to beg off with a case of workingmomness).

Ok, so yes, I do all of this. But when one of my reporters calls me supermom, I don't know whether to laugh, blush or expose myself for the fraud in superhero clothing that I really am.

So let me set the record straight: I am not a supermom.

I'm truly just another hard-working professional mother who does her best to get more things right at work and home each day than I get wrong. And trust me, I get it wrong. Like the time I forgot to pick up my son from summer camp (I blame the BlackBerry, but it was the owner of said device that forgot to change her pick-up day from Wednesday to Tuesday). You know, the summer camp that was really not a good choice for him to begin with. I'd give more examples, but really, they'd pale in comparison to that double-whammy.

After years of contributing to a more professional blog about the trade-offs working parents make to, well, make it work, I've decided to launch my own personal blog about the decisions and dilemmas working moms (and dads) face, as told through my own daily wading through the adventure that is working motherhood. Maybe I'll learn a little something along the way. And perhaps my own stories will help anyone who finds this blog deal with their own dilemmas and decisions.