Magazine article Working Mother

Dear Diary

Magazine article Working Mother

Dear Diary

Article excerpt

I am determined to give the kids a real spring break for a change. So starting Monday, we're squeezing in a junket to the Grand Canyon. That's the plan, anyway.

Monday

1:27 p.m. The phone rings. It's my husband, Berick, the hardest-working guy in real estate. "I just got a call from New York," he says-and doesn't need to say more. As I've already guessed, our four-day trip to see the wonder that is the Grand Canyon will now be a three-day trip. "We'll leave first thing in the morning," he promises.

I look at my datebook. With 78 hours and 33 minutes before my next radio-show meeting, we've got plenty of time to drive from L.A. to Arizona and back. We can still make the two-day mule trek and the overnight stay at the Kachina Lodge that I reserved 17 months ago.

Brookes, 10, and Colin, 6, are waiting on the front porch with their backpacks, visions of pack animals dancing in their heads. I spin the late departure as a positive development, noting that now we'll just drive straight to the South Rim, no bogus stopover in a hotel in the middle of Nowheresville. They're not buying it.

Hmm, what's comparable to seeing one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World? "Who's up for bowling?"

11:47 p.m. "We're not leaving at six a.m., are we?" I ask my exhausted spouse as he collapses into bed.

His "little problem" has become a giant headache. "I'm sorry. Just have to go into the office for a few hours."

"Should I cancel the mules?"

"Whoa! We'll make it. I'll be back by two o'clock at the latest," Berick assures me.

Ah, the heartbreaking pull of two great magnets, work and family. …

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