I have two kids. Through the years, my friends with one child often ask, “How do you do it?” To be honest, I don’t know. I guess I just do what needs to be done. So, I often ask friends who have three or more kids the same question.

I was at my friend’s house the other night (I’ll call her Cara) for our book club. All of the women in our book club have two kids, except Cara. She was hosting and her third child, a 7-year-old boy (I will call him Sean) often puts her over the edge. But we all secretly enjoy seeing how Cara reacts to his oh-so-7-year-old-boyishness.

Jackie Tangent: Sean is the cutest thing, like a mini Enrique Iglesias. He has dance moves like Mick Jagger and the sweetest boy voice. By the way, the only reason I know this pop singer is because my kids beg me to listen to him on the radio. Now I can’t get the song, “I Like It” out of my head. Here’s a taste.

So anyway, smack in the middle of our book club, Sean runs into the living room, asking Cara in a continuous stream of 7-year-old consciousness, “Hi, guys!!” “Mommy, whatcha doin? Hi mom.” “What’s that?” Grabbing crackers and cheese from the coffee table, “Mmmmmmm those are good, can I have more?” The look on Cara’s face was priceless following every comment. “OK, Sean,” she says. “Ok, Sean, thank you.” We couldn’t get enough of him, but she had had enough. She rushed through his questions, knowing it was not long before bedtime and he was trying to get out of being where he was supposed to be, which was not in the living room enjoying wine and cheese. “You need to go to back downstairs with your brother and sister. I love you. Good night. OK, Sean. Goodbye now.”

Cara says Sean follows her everywhere and wakes her up at 6 a.m. every day. We were all giggling about her after-Sean-was-born tales, especially the one where she had to hide in the bathroom, pretending to take a shower so she could get a moment of peace. We have all been through the ringer with our own, but most of us sitting there did not have a third. Cara, like all mothers, deserves sacred mommy “alone” time. By the way, I’m happy with two. We are done. But if, by some miracle, we have a third, I will welcome the idea with open arms. After I pass out and eat an entire bag of chocolate truffles, I will welcome it with open arms.

Do you ever get a moment of mommy time?

So I brought my 10-year-old son to a high school football game the other night. Jackie Tangent/sidebar: My son is becoming a tween, or in between elementary and teen years. (This is the Urban Dictionary definition of Tween: An age set overlapping preteens, ‘tween 8 and 14. A tween desperately wants to be a teen, but isn’t about to stop being a kid.) My husband was at home with our daughter, so it was just the two of us. The stadium was swarming with high school kids, parents and a few hundred tweens. I felt at first like it was the first day of school. I hadn’t seen that many Uugs paired with sweatshirts and jeans in one place. I realized I had forgotten to wear lip gloss and suddenly felt a blemish forming on my nose. I sat down next to some parents I knew from my son’s football team and although I tried desperately to focus on the game, it was all I could do to not have a panic attack at the sheer essence of teenager-mania that surrounded me. I know it’s coming. It may be five years away, but it’s coming. And I can’t help but enjoy this blissful state of denial a little longer. My mother-in-law tells me the teenage years are the worst. She had to deal with the hippy days and to this day blames the Beatles for the troubles kids got in back then. I don’t know what’s worse – yesterday’s hippies or today’s technology. I felt a sense of relief when my son walked up to me, without a cell phone, asking me if he could please have a hot chocolate. He called me mom in front of his friend. In public. And he wanted a hot chocolate. With whipped cream. I still have him for a little while longer.

OK, so I checked Facebook twice since writing this sentence. (Let me explain something to my fellow Facebook hater friends: I originally opened a Facebook account because I knew it would give me a chance to stay in touch with old girlfriends. I moved a few times in my life, so I have friends across the country. Now I find the social media tool as a fun way to distract me from things I’m procrastinating about.) Because I work from home, I get to be my own boss. This can be a good thing and a bad thing. I’m actually a pretty self-motivated person, but I can also over-eat myself into a coma, put off work until 3 a.m., procrastinate about projects rather than tackle them right away and aggravate my husband with my annoying habits because he also works from home.  I’m either off Facebook for two months straight or I find myself checking it three times a day. Lately, I think I need to go on a Facebook diet. If you have any advice, please share.

Have you ever had a migraine? The kind of headache that’s so gnarly, it feels like something Sigourney Weaver tried to catch in the movie Alien hatched on one side of your head and escaped through your forehead? I never used to get bad headaches, even when I was pregnant, but since I turned 40, I feel one emerging at least twice a month. And ironically, it’s not so long after I have an amazingly healthy meal. Go figure. Although I’m not hanging over the toilet, I do feel like cow dung. I woke up with my head throbbing the other day. I tried hiding it from my kids and husband, pretending everything was hunky dory while I fixed breakfast and got everyone out the door. I tried working, but ended up moaning over my keyboard, holding my head in my hands. Then I remembered something a friend told me. “The best way to get rid of a migraine is to drink caffeine or eat something sugary.” Hello, have you met me? I’m all over that advice. I shoved my face with chocolate covered raisins. Then a piece of fruit. Then chocolate chips with the chocolate covered raisins. Then a cup of green tea. Within an hour, I was working, writing, carpooling, running errands, walking with my dog and kids and making dinner. Like I need another reason to stress eat, right?

Just for fun, here’s the trailer to the movie Alien