If multitasking were an Olympic sport, I would be on the podium with my anthem ringing proudly. And you would be there beside me.

Gold medals for all the multitasking moms. It’s a universal struggle to juggle. Doing many things at once including, but not limited to peeing.

As a wife, mom of four, writer, tutor and manager of a family swimming business, I am learning to maximize my minutes {most days}. Vacuuming while nursing the baby. Editing an article while blowing a tiny nose. Tutoring calculus while stirring supper.

And you wear multiple hats too. I know you do. Grabbing for a new one, before you even have time to hang up the last.

Moms are pulled in many directions and beckoned from several angles. Our lives demand we do all the things, and we long to do them well.

How does this play out for a Mom with a tiny, vast dream? For a woman desperate to exhale creativity so she can be the best version of herself?

At times, our hearts beat with inspiration, yet finding the time to capture this seems impossible, especially when the children are little. Hungry tummies call to be filled and owies beckon a kiss.

Mulling over this tension, I map out my week. I spot small windows to write about this multitasking stage of motherhood. Little cracks of opportunities to record this challenge.

Multitasking mom – this is for us

Monday

Today is filled with variety. Lego to pass time during a storm. Diapers, laundry and groceries.

And a marathon trip to the dentist followed by a no-cavity celebration.

After returning to home base, I make supper and my boys pepper me with questions.

“Can I have a friend over?”

“Do I need to practise my piano?”

“What are we having for supper?”

“Can you come see what I built?”

I casually reply, “No. Yes. Pasta. Soon.”

I coach etiquette, coax room tidying, and solve matters of the heart.

When the boys are tucked in and dust settles on the day, I sit to write. I am torn, also wanting to connect with my husband. Alas, the silence is short-lived as the baby was only pretending to sleep and needs only mommy. With a disappointed sigh, I purpose to write tomorrow.

Tuesday

A truly perfect day to write. A crisp morning breeze and sun-drenched clouds inspire even the most distracted mom. Three lunches packed, big boys lathered with sunscreen, donning appropriate baseball gear and delivered to the coach with 4.2 seconds to spare.

I head over to supervise the backyard swimming business, baby on my hip.

I set up the laptop, ready to create.

My easygoing baby is clingy. I wipe his eye several times, increasingly concerned. As the day progresses, my suspicions are confirmed. This little piggy is neither going to the market nor staying home…it’s wee, wee, wee all the way to the walk-in.

My mind flashes back to inserting eye drops into the tightly-shut-squinty eyes of his big brothers. Mastering pinning a child, gently and without weight bearing, while reassuring horrified siblings.

Anticipating the ensuing drama, I put off writing until tomorrow.

Wednesday

My sister asks if I can watch her puppy. Kirby is the fifth child my children always wanted. I welcome him into my madness. The puppy arrives, pee pad in tow. I marvel that I don’t even have to take him outside.

The only thing I didn’t factor into dog watching is my baby. The water bowl becomes a splash pad. Food pellets ricochet off the kitchen floor, and serve as an accidental nibble for my diapered darling.

As I begin to write, my 18-month-old bends over to pick up two things. One is an apricot crayon but the other is not. Kirby’s pee pad has become a play place, where the baby singlehandedly scoops poop, leaving one hand free for his art.

After verifying my gag reflux is intact and sanitizing the baby, I return to my laptop. I consider what percentage of my career as a mom has been spent dealing with poop. I have lost my appetite—and my inspiration.

Thursday

It’s a new day. The day I can finally write about being a multitasking mom because I have cleared my schedule. I have arranged for a babysitter. All I need to do is take the boys to baseball camp, drop the baby off at the sitter’s, and manage the swimming business. Even a novice could write under such prime conditions.

But report cards must be photocopied, instructors need hot chocolate to make their chilly day bearable, and moms in the waiting area carry burdens I cannot ignore. One recently lost a parent. Another is struggling with a defiant child. One hopes a new program can accommodate her son’s learning challenges.

I close my laptop and chat on the patio. We are there for each other, sharing about the messiness of parenting. Pushing past loneliness. Swapping stories and sharing hearts. Unpredictable trenches are more bearable as a community.

My opportunity to write has passed.

Friday

Once again I am ready to produce. My husband has taken all four boys to the park so I can focus. The deadline is quickly approaching and I will not be defeated. Today I shall write.

Yet there is an unexpected problem. Not the usual competition for my attention. In fact, the house is perfectly quiet. Painfully quiet. And I realize I am at a loss.

I forget how to only do the one thing that needs to be done.

A blank screen taunts me. I squirm in the silence and create my own distractions.

In the stillness, my mom’s wise counsel echoes true—there is a season for everything. Although this may not be the season to write my elusive story, it is the time to live it. So I wave a white flag, close my laptop and join my inspiration at the park.

Believing that one day, these words will be shared.

It’s an honour that you made it down to the end of this story. I know your time is precious. Share your heart about multitasking below. I’m listening.

More hope and humour for Moms: