Please hit me. . .

If I ever try to do more than RWA and RT in one year. In fact hit me hard.
Twice.
I am so far beyond stressed right now, I'm a gibbering idiot. I have so much to do that I'm juggling everything and not doing it all that well.

On the other hand, I'm getting to see my friends and growing as a writer and that's good, right?

You see, at home I am not Arianna Hart, writer of romantica and bubbly personality. At home I'm mom and have to take kids to camp, teach summer school, help my 6 year old learn to read and do a million other things. When I'm with my writing buddies I'm Ari, sassy, sarcastic and fun to be around. I can talk about writing and ploting and promoting and all sorts of other things that get lost in my "regular" life.

I love both parts of my life, but when I try to blend the two, it's a lot of work. I'm attempting to get ready for RWA and make sure my workshop is organized and professional while my 3 year old whines at me for Goldfish Crackers and my other kids beg me for dinner.

And you wonder why I'm stressed.

I sometimes wonder if other occupations make women feel so split? Are there police officers who feel like they are completely different people when they put on that uniform? What about doctors? Do men ever go through this identity tug of war?

And anyone have any idea what I should make for dinner?

Sigh, looks like my moment of being Ari is officially over and now the kids are calling for their mommy to make them dinner! It was nice while it lasted. . .