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  THE PLATE SPINNER CHRONICLES

  A Working Mother's Epic Adventure

  by

  BARBARA VALENTIN

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  Copyright © 2015 by Barbara Valentin

  Cover design by Viola Estrella

  Gemma Halliday Publishing

  http://www.gemmahallidaypublishing.com

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  With love and gratitude to Marlene Kasten, the best plate spinning mentor this crazed working parent could have ever asked for and the best mom ever.

  I'd also like to acknowledge Nancy Munson and Patricia MacMillan, my editors at the Chicago Tribune's TribLocal, for giving my column a home. While I would never compare my writing to that of the late, great Erma Bombeck, these two working moms made me feel like I had come at least a little close.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  I Spin, Therefore I Am

  ~ Welcome to My World ~

  I'm a plate spinner. No, not the kind you might catch in Vegas or even on a rerun of an old variety show. In fact, my "plates" are not so much objects, but those elements of my life that get me out of bed in the morning faster than the promise of a hot cup of coffee.

  With five boys and a full-time job, I have plenty of plates to spin. My "act," while not nearly glamorous enough for Vegas (and a little difficult to simulate on a stage), does seem to provoke the same sense of awe in just about anyone I meet who, on hearing that I have five boys, inevitably exclaims, "How do you do it?"

  Before responding, I imagine an announcer's voice hushing the eager crowd in the audience. "And now, ladies and gentleman, the amazing Plate Spinner! Watch as she sets each of her plates in motion! See her dazzling display of making five peanut butter and jelly sandwiches while checking her office voicemail—at the same time. See how she unloads the dishwasher while dictating a shopping list to her husband. And, finally, home from a long day at the office, watch as she helps her kids with their homework while making dinner!"

  The crowd roars with applause and the curtain parts. I appear, dressed impeccably in business casual with a mile-high showgirl headpiece, and go about spinning through a typical day.

  I sigh at the millions I could be making in ticket sales and then soberly reply, "Oh, it's easy. They're great kids."

  Welcome to the heady world of working parents. In some households, both parents work, and in some, just one parent works. In my case, it's me. After our third son was born, it only took a couple of months to realize that we were using our meager vacation day allotments to stay home with a sick child or two while watching thousands of dollars go to the daytime care and feeding of our three boys. We came to the inevitable conclusion—one of us had to stay home.

  Careful and deliberate analysis over each of our career prospects, along with our individual ability to be a full-time caregiver to our children, yielded the obvious choice—my husband. It took about thirty seconds.

  The relief I felt was instantaneous. No more stay-at-home mothers accosting me with comments like "I can't imagine paying anyone to raise my children!" No more having to endure raised eyebrows when requesting yet another afternoon off because a child had a slight fever. No more having to fly out the door by 5:30 to reach the facility before closing time so as to avoid additional "late" fees.

  Does this make me a bad mother? Quite the contrary, it's a testimony to my wonderful, loving mother who worked full-time while raising us. She was a plate spinner extraordinaire. The one who taught me that plate spinning, a stress-inducing and largely underappreciated skill, is done by loving parents the world over whether they're at home or at work. No one had to fly to Vegas to catch her act either, but she would've totally rocked a showgirl headpiece.

  ~ Mom of Steel ~

  "Able to leap tall piles of laundry in a single bound. On a conference call—look! It's a parent. It's a breadwinner. It's a Plate Spinner!"

  OK, maybe I've spent too much time with my nose in my boys' comic books, but given the feats that I have to accomplish on a daily basis, I do fancy myself to be a project-managing, child-rearing, meal-planning, rule-instilling, errand-running superhero.

  Greetings from Planet Suburbia!

  OK, before my kids disown me, let me assure you that I'm not about to go traipsing around with a gigantic PS emblazoned across my chest and a way-cool glitter cape fluttering behind me as I go about my day. Instead, I'll offer up a list of my top five super powers.

  1. Backwards vision (aka, eyes in the back of my head)

  All parents have it, but I wonder if they fully utilize its power. If you have your back to a child but can't hear them, they're up to no good. Count on it. A simple "stop right there" ought to spook them into submission.

  2. Time-shrinking

  With some pre-planning—a concept that is foreign to children of all ages, you can reduce the time it takes to complete any task by as much as fifty percent. For example, if you were to get up at the same time as your child on any given morning and both had thirty minutes to get out the door, you could get ready for work, prep a nutritious dinner, check your email, and fix them breakfast while they're still scrambling to find two socks that match.

  3. Patience

  Okay, yes, it's a virtue, but it's one of the most potent tools in your arsenal. Why? It enables you to endure just about everything your child can dish out, starting with grocery store temper tantrums when they're little to demands for tattoos and body piercing when they're older.

  4. Simultaneous Location Inhabitor (aka, S.L.I.)

  You guessed it—being in two places at once. Note, there is a heavy dependency on technology for this one, as well as carpools, flextime and a really fast car with a fuzz buster on the dash.

  5. Stereo Babble Decipherer

  The ability to actually hear two people talking at once cannot be underrated, especially for a busy parent. When both speakers are using the same tone—take, for example, a high-pitched dispute over who left the gas tank empty the last time one of them borrowed the car, it can take a while to pick apart exactly who is saying what.

  My secret weapon? The Look. You know which one I'm talking about. Eyebrow arched, chin dipped, lips pursed? It renders its victims devastatingly polite. Before you know it, your kids will be relaying their thoughts, one by one, with perfect articulation and the utmost respect.

  Now, go get your cape on—just steer clear of ceiling fans.

  ~ Happy Maternal Superhero Day ~

  Mother's Day is right around the corner and, while I'm tempted to parlay the gratitude of my husband and children into something sparkly for myself, I instead think of my own Mom, my plate-spinning mentor from Day One. Now in her seventies, I watch as she dotes on my boys and cares for my Dad, and find that I am lea
rning from her still.

  Like her, I have five children and work full-time to help support my family. As the youngest of her brood, I had the benefit of witnessing her perform during her peak. By the time I came along, she was spinning plates like a pro, serving up square meals each night, doing the laundry, running evening baths, reading bedtime stories, crocheting ponchos for my Barbie dolls, and sewing Halloween costumes, all while forging a career for herself at our town's local newspaper.

  I'll never forget one particular night when I was in the second grade. After being tucked into bed, I woke up horrified that I had neglected to tell her that it was my turn to bring in cupcakes for our school's monthly Hot Dog Day. I rushed down to our laundry room, where I knew she was ironing, to drop the bomb. In reply, she flashed me a weary smile, told me not to worry about it and shoo'd me off to bed.

  Mystified by her calm response, I did as I was told, convincing myself that I would never have kids because they were way too much work. Nonetheless, in the morning, there they'd be. Perfectly-iced, homemade cupcakes tucked neatly in our handy plastic cupcake holder.

  For Mother's Day that year, I sauntered down to our neighbor's garage sale and slapped down a hard-earned quarter for a goofy little monkey statue that I was sure my Mom would love. That morning, she carefully unfolded the paper from the comic strip section that I had used to encase her gift and acted as if I had gotten her a five-carat diamond, smiling, hugging me, and telling me that she absolutely loved it.

  Mission accomplished.

  From my childhood perspective, I thought it was normal for a Mom to take on the world. Right or wrong, my friends' mothers who stayed home all day didn't seem nearly as glamorous as mine. She did it all. She was my personal superhero who was wise enough to shift her cape around to her waist so she had something to wipe her hands on while cooking.

  This year will mark my sixteenth official Mother's Day, and while I've earned my share of beautiful, highly-cherished, handmade ceramic fish paperweights and Popsicle stick picture frames, I still marvel at all that my Mom did for us without the benefit of a microwave, email, cell phone, and store-bought cupcakes. While her cape has frayed a bit around the edges, she's still spinning her plates and even some of mine that would otherwise fall.

  So, here's to you Mom, my plate-spinning superhero—thank you for all that you do and all the love that you give. I don't know where I'd be without you.

  ~ Releasing Your Inner Spinner ~

  Dear Plate Spinner,

  I recently read an interview with Melinda Gates in which she discussed how she maintains her work/life balance. Does this make her a plate spinner?

  Signed,

  "Confused"

  Dear "Confused,"

  If a plate spinner is someone who is responsible for the care and feeding of someone other than themselves and they have to squeeze this responsibility in between another major obligation, like being a full-time employee or major global philanthropist, then yes, Melinda Gates qualifies as a plate spinner.

  We may come in all shapes, sizes, and income brackets, but it's true. We are all striving for the same thing. Balance.

  These tips, along with some practice, patience and caffeine—lots of caffeine, can help you achieve it.

  1. Find a plate-spinning pal—A multi-tasking mentor to help you navigate the well-worn path to plate-spinning utopia, this person can be anyone whose skills you wish to emulate—someone who manages raising a family while excelling in their career, all with the cool precision of an Indy 500 race car driver.

  For me, it was my Mom. For you, it could be anybody, but a word to the wise. Avoid looking to celebrities as role models. Their ginormous salaries aside, there is one thing they have that you don't—a staff (spouse and kids don't count).

  2. Delegate, delegate, delegate—Speaking of spouses and kids, the wise plate spinner knows how to nurture and leverage the talent of her labor pool. If you have someone in your family who loves to cook, put them in charge of meal planning and prep. Is someone particularly adept with computers? Perhaps they could start their own company, become wildly successful, attend G8 summits, and support you for the rest of your life.

  Younger children, on the other hand, can be taught to take messages, dust, and water plants. Try to get them to do all three at the same time. It's never too early to start spinning.

  3. Keep it real—Keeping the proper perspective will help you celebrate your successes and learn from your failures. Since there are only so many hours in a given day, keep your to-do list limited to what you can accomplish within that time frame. If your eyes are bigger than your plate-spinning capacity, your lengthy list will leave you feeling overwhelmed before you even start.

  Ask yourself, "What's the worst that can happen if I don't get to everything I need to do today?"

  So you end up serving frozen pizza twice in one week. Who cares?

  You missed your daughter's recital to attend a budget meeting? It happens.

  According to that interview, even Ms. Gates would agree—no one is perfect. Cut yourself a break every once in a while.

  So, yes, "Confused." Melinda Gates is not only a plate spinner, aside from the difference in the number of zeros trailing her salary and mine, she and I are practically pals.

  Oh, wait. I forgot. Celebrity…

  ~ Isn't Every Day Father's Day? ~

  In the world of working parents, Father's Day looms large and, with it, the onslaught of store ads promoting ties, aftershave, watches and other gift ideas. My dear dad, now retired, believes that the third Sunday in June simply marks the culmination of Father's Day month, the kickoff of which falls, coincidentally, on Mother's Day—much to my mom's chagrin. Nonetheless, my dad is happy to receive a plate of his favorite homemade cookies and some new refrigerator art from my younger sons.

  My husband's gift, however, requires more deliberation and planning. Memories of my mother whispering under her breath, "Isn't every day Father's Day?" echo through my mind briefly before they're pushed aside by a more recent image of my favorite stay-at-home dad, pulling a warm plate out of the oven for me when I arrived home after a long day at work.

  As the day fast approaches, my mind begins to race. Gift buying is a plate I reluctantly spin because it must stay aloft until said gift is purchased. While gift cards offer a quick remedy, I have to remember that this is for the guy who, on more than one occasion, has gone above and beyond the call of duty.

  Take, for instance, the time he nursed a couple of sons back from tonsillectomies while I had commitments at work, or the valiance he displayed when, during a recent trip to an amusement park, I backed out of a promise to ride with the boys in the front car of a new roller coaster, scary enough to prompt several warnings for the faint of heart.

  These few examples, coupled with all of the limo driving, forgotten lunch/gym uniform deliveries, Band-Aid applications and hugs given, remind me that something much more special is in order. Like a new car.

  As much as I'd like to do my part to bolster the auto industry, monetary constraints force me to set my sights on something a little more affordable. I confer with the boys. While my high-schoolers wholeheartedly endorse the new car idea, my younger two recite a list of video games that sounds vaguely like a rough draft of last year's letter to Santa.

  When my only hope for inspiration appears to be window-shopping, I head for the door before getting intercepted by our middle son, the voice of reason amongst his siblings.

  "I asked Dad what he wants." I admire his direct approach. My son continues, "The zoo."

  Assuming my husband was suggesting a place for us to go so he could have some alone time, a holy grail of sorts for all harried plate-spinning parents, I agree.

  "OK, sure. I haven't taken you guys to the zoo alone for a long time."

  I beam at my spot-on deductive reasoning before he clarifies, "No, he wants us all to go to the zoo together."

  "Really?" I close the door, somewhat perplexed.

  Maybe
my Mom was right—every day is Father's day.

  CHAPTER TWO

  A Plate Spinner is Born

  ~ Redefining Romance ~

  Valentine's Day marks the anniversary of the day my husband and I got engaged. It also marks the day I started dabbling in the fine art of plate spinning. It began innocently enough, squeezing in a visit to a nearby bridal boutique on my lunch hour, but before long, I had crossed over to hard-core matrimonial multitasking, filling weekends with everything from reception hall tours to appointments with photographers, florists, and DJs.

  By the time the next Valentine's Day dawned, our wedding was just two weeks away. Romance again beckoned, but with a blizzard blowing outside, this appointment-packed bride-to-be was left stranded with little more to do than count reception response cards.

  While I looked forward to our life together, I somberly accepted the fact that our Valentine's Day celebrations would only go downhill from there. Marriage, so I had been told, would suck the very life out of our romance before we had even finished saying our vows. Maybe, just maybe, I'd get some flowers or the occasional box of chocolates. I figured, as time went on, I'd have to settle for a peck on the cheek and, if I was lucky, a card.

  At the time, I thought nothing would ever top the surprise of seeing him get down on one knee in a crowded, candlelit restaurant, holding out a little black velvet box while popping the question.

  That is, until our first son was born.

  I woke up on that first Valentine's Day as a new mom feeling alarmingly well-rested. Venturing into our living room, I discovered why. With our infant son snuggled against him, my husband lay asleep in the recliner with an empty baby bottle at his side. As he heard me approach, he mumbled, "Happy Valentine's Day."