I’ve been doing this for about two and a half years, now, and so far, the juggle has been manageable. I’m not saying I’ve never had a moment where I had to figure out how to do business and tend to my kids, I’m just saying that hurdles have been met. (I want to say I met them all with grace, but let’s be honest and just say I met them with… grim determination.)

I have done conference calls while a sick child lay on the couch with the TV remote and a bucket. I have typed out assignments on my laptop while sitting in the doctor’s waiting room, or while half-watching whichever child was at sports practice. I have returned emails from my cell phone—hunched over the tiny buttons and typing as quickly as I could (hint: not very quickly)—while waiting for children to take the stage in the holiday pageant. I always strive to make my time with the kids about them, and to put work aside, of course, but sometimes it can’t be helped.

And I was doing alright until yesterday.

Yesterday I had a Very Important Phone Call with a client scheduled for 2:00. In fact, that call had been scheduled for the previous day, but my client had had to cancel, and being me I had issued a bit of gentle ribbing about how I’d take it personally if it happened again, haha, we laughed and rescheduled. No problem.

At precisely 2:00 my phone rang. I was about to pick up and greet my client when I glanced at the Caller ID and saw that it wasn’t my client. It was my children’s school.

Ack.

I answered, full of trepidation. It was my son’s teacher, reporting that he’d had an accident on the playground.

[Here let's pause while I tell you that I really do love many things about my son's teacher, including her willingness to "keep me in the loop" even when "keeping me in the loop" often feels a lot like "scaring the bejeezus out of me over things that turn out to be nothing."]

While I tried to coax the details out of her—not to mention ascertaining whether or not my son was okay—my caller ID beeped. My client, of course.

And there it was: The moment I’d been dreading for two and a half years. I was suddenly completely paralyzed.

By this time I had managed to confirm that my son wasn’t in any danger or mortally wounded. However, clearly an incident had taken place which needed my attention. The teacher was calling me while her class of students waited for her to get back to them, and I didn’t feel like I could ask her to just hang on a second.

On the other hand, the phone continued to beep, heralding the Very Important Client whom I had not only scheduled for that time, but (gently) berated for missing our original call.

Ack.

I cradled the phone between my chin and shoulder and continued talking to the teacher while I began typing an email to my client. “I’m so sorry,” I typed, “but my son’s teacher is on the phone and he’s been hurt. I think he’s okay, but I need to wrap up this call and will call you as soon as I’m done.” I hit send.

Should I have fibbed? I’m not a fan of lying. Plus, I figure anyone who’s human understands this sort of thing. Still, I was a bundle of nerves—still trying to get the teacher to just spit it out, already over what had happened, feeling mortified at being unavailable.

No sooner had I sent it than I received an email my client must’ve sent at the same time. “Mir, I just tried to reach you for our call. Please let me know when you’re available.” Crap. Crap. I quickly responded (”Our emails must’ve crossed… be with you ASAP”) and hoped for the best.

I finished the call with the teacher and tried to reach my client. After about twenty minutes of biting my nails down to the knuckles, my client called—totally unbothered, by the way, and asking if my son was okay. (Never underestimate how great it is to work with nice people.)

So it was all fine. But hopefully I won’t be dealing with anything like that again anytime soon. I’m not sure my heart can take it a second time.