The day I set myself on fire, I knew I had a problem.

The morning began like most. The alarm clock began its annoying bleet-bleet-bleet at 4:00 a.m. I quickly groped for the clock radio, as not to wake my husband, Jeff, or Spike, who was sleeping in the center of the bed on her back with her hind legs spread-eagle and her front paws in praying mantis position. I took a moment to envy her carefree existence.

I have just turned 34 and find out that I am pregnant again. I guess this was my present because hello, my husband forgot one, like expensive jewerly or hey a cake would have even been nice but no, I get to be fat again for 9 months and curse everytime I have to get dressed. I had no idea how this happened.

I’m a working mother with two wonderful children and a disabled husband and I always run out of time. I’m lucky if I get 4 hours of sleep a night. I work 65 hours a week and have to drive an hour just to get to work. I always worry about falling asleep while I’m driving so I do everything I can to keep myself awake. I’ll turn my music up really loud, sing along to the songs on the radio, make my car freezing cold, and even pinch myself while I drive.

SuperMan has nothing on me….I can fly into my mommy mobile with my kids in a single bound in less than 5 seconds. I have Xray vision…I have seen more radiological x-rays of my girls broken this, croup that, reflux here, adenoids there. I can look like two different people and no one knows it’s me….The first is the messy, sweaty gym clothes-wearing, hole-in-socks, food on shirt, disheveled mommy who looks blah, boring, tired and stressed and then with a blink of the eye, I turn into Chic Mommy…high heeled boots, trendy pants and a funky shirt.

My husband and I are both legally blind, but own a business that keeps us hopping along with our family life. Since we cannot drive, it is necessary to rely on people or public transportation to get us where we need to go. That is not always an easy task since most others are just as busy as we are. Fortunately I have a very good friend who not only generously offers rides, but also loves to go shopping (a true treat for me!).

It’s 6:30 on a work/school night and I’m poised at the stove, patiently waiting for the basmati rice to rest after twenty minutes of being at a perfect simmer.

I’m still in my navy suit and matching heels–and haven’t even taken the time to put on an apron at an attempt to protect my outfit (Annie Sez special) which is pretty stupid since I’m also caramelizing chicken chunks and veggies to add to the rice—and so a splatter could happen at any moment. But, as usual, I’m in a hurry. My husband’s due in about 20 minutes, so I’m rushing to get the kids fed, dinner on the table for him, the dog fed and out, clean out my briefcase from the day’s work and transfer in relevant notes, and then out the door to run up the street to the 7:00 PTA meeting I’m helping out with.

I am home one snowy Saturday morning with my four year old, It is 8:30, and we are knocking back our morning Cheerios. She has a dentist appointment at 11, and my family is supposed to drive several hours to a family party that afternoon. I notice that her sniffle has turned to something more active—not alarming, but worth a check.

Forgive me, almighty Super Mom (if you even exist), for I have sinned.

All I wanted was a new Bra! Having had Seven kids, dealing with Yo-Yo weight, and breast feeding for 2 years I had been without a “new” bra for long enough.

Victoria Secret had a fashion show on TV and I just had to watch it. The bras and panties were pretty and they matched. They were the prettiest colors of the rainbow in hues of pink and with sparkles even. They looked to have had good elastic and appropriate closures. I could not find one safety pin holding it all together on any girl.

At this very moment I’m listening to Boobah, typing, answering emails and fielding phone calls. And listening to my husband snore. Because, at 0800 we had our umpteenth fight on why my job sucks and how can he get any sleep with the phone ringing all night and the baby teething and UGH! At least I got to catnap on the couch, he says. I respond by saying in a few hours time, he’ll be back to sleep and I’ll still be hard at work and watching the baby. “No way!” Says he, “I can’t get back to sleep after all that.” And here we are. I fight the urge to smother him.

I’m a transplant coordinator and I work with dead people. I’m the person you don’t want to see in the ICU. Rumors that vultures circle my head are greatly exaggerated. However, if you or someone you love is waiting for an organ, I’m you best ally. Mostly my job involves being on call and responding to hospitals, assessing patients that are brain dead to see if they’re suitable to be organ donors and then asking the family if they want to donate. It’s a little stressful.