Is this sandbox screwing with my reception?
I see you all looking at me across the monkey bars. Rolling your eyes. Judging me. While you gingerly make star-shaped designs in the sand, cheer your kid across the bouncy bridge, and throw that tennis ball back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, I am standing there, between pushes on the swing and trips to the water fountain, tapping away on my iPhone, glued to my little screen as you are glued to your pack of wipes. I work as a PR consultant and am lucky enough to handle some very cool people, places and things in and around Hollywood. But what that means is that when People Magazine calls on deadline to find out details about the rehabbed A-lister who hit one of my clubs last night, I can’t very well hold up their entire operation because Little D wants to go “HIGHER!” on the swing (trust me, you wouldn’t want your People devoid of delicious details this week because of little old me, now would you?). And truth is, Little D is quite content navigating the Westside jungle gyms on her own. Sure, she gives me an occasional “Mama, look!” and of course I do, nodding with approval and a boisterous “Good job!” But overall, she doesn’t need me over her shoulder every step of the way, never has. So I choose to use that time to – wait for it – multitask. Because as much as I may say I’d like to live the life of Gwyneth, who gets to go on-set a few months per year and ignore her email the rest of the time, I can’t. And truth be told, I probably wouldn’t want to anyways. I love me a full inbox.