Since it’s my turn to write a blog post this week, and I’ve
recently become a mother for the second time, the natural suggestion from the
marketing group was to write something about motherhood. “Really? You want
crazy?” I thought jokingly.

My husband and I welcomed our second son into our family over
the summer, making us a “two kids under the age of two” household. Plus, we
have an additional family member in the house: a 100-pound polar bear (okay, a
white Labrador) named Cooper. With the new baby on board, a toddler trying to
get potty-trained, and a high-spirited hound, our routine is continually in
flux. Surprisingly, the fast pace still leaves us with many, many, enjoyable opportunities for audible
and inaudible conversations. As a family we have learned to communicate through
jigs and jives, hand signals, primitive sentences (mainly from our toddler,
although I won’t deny using them when on the night shift), and one-word
exchanges with the spouse. “Paid?”—Thumbs up. “Diapers?”—“Got ’em.” “Cooper?”—“Fed!”

There are a few, however, that take a little bit of
creativity to figure out. For example: “I go ME!”

“What?” I ask and pause for clarification. A little hand
gestures toward the candy jar. “Oh, you’d like a gummy bear?”

“Uh-huh. Peeease!”

It’s not only at my house that these types of conversations
exist; they occur in my inbox at work as well. Smart phones and Twitter are to
blame, I assume, but it is amazing what can get accomplished with just a few
words. “Sent?”—“Done!” “Pitched?”—“Yes.” “Review?”—“Attached.” Down the list we
go, check, check, and check.

As a publicity manager, I am in touch with journalists, book
reviewers, professors, authors, and many others on a daily basis, and with many
of them on Twitter, it’s easy to get wrapped up in a 140-character conversation
(or less)! Obviously not every situation or conversation lends itself to being
answered with one word, but it can be a challenge to do so and takes a little
moxie, finesse, and knowing your counterpart.

Every once in a while my colleagues get to join in the game,
and last week Martyn, our marketing manager, got a glimpse of what “crazy”
looks like before 8:00 a.m. I came racing past his office, said hello, then stepped
back into his doorway and asked, “Am I glowing?”

He looked at me, extremely puzzled. I turned to show him the
back of my coat.

“I mean, do I have neon green on my back?” To my surprise, he
told me I didn’t.

My short answer to him: “Glow stick.”

My life lesson: glow sticks are not allowed in the car, especially not the inexpensive ones that
crack and leak when you bend them too much, making it look like a toddler rave happened
in the back of my vehicle on a Monday morning during the ride to daycare.
(The thanks go to Daddy for that one.)

Neon is not a good
look for Mommy.

-Acacia