In my effort to be everything to everybody and keep the world happy, I just can’t utter that one simple, one-syllable word: “No.”
Basketball game days are always busy and the schedule is tight.
There is little leeway and if one thing is late, then something else will suffer and pushes the whole day off-kilter. This particular game day happened to fall on column-writing day along with two cattle sales – one in South Rustico, Prince Edward Island, and one in Dubuque, Iowa – that would require my reporting skills.

Self-discipline was mandatory. There would be no extra phone conversations, text visits and certainly no unneeded Internet surfing while working in the office.

My plan was set: after breakfast I would post on my blogs, answer e-mails and head back out to the barn for morning chores, then back in just in time to shower, run to the bank, get home to catch the first of the two sales, write a report, make sure dinner was on-track, clean up the kitchen, make sure all the necessary basketball uniform parts were clean, write my column, head to an appointment with my husband, getting back just in time to put dinner on the table, enjoy a cup of coffee after dinner and then head to the barn for chores, get back in to get cleaned up and go north to the district basketball game – where I would plop down on the bleachers and enjoy sitting for two straight hours!

I think it was somewhere between the four phone calls about the two sales and the text that I answered, “Yes, of course I will,” that I took a wrong turn.

Trent Loos sent a text asking if I was busy at noon and could I be on Rural Route Radio. That is a no-brainer. Unless I’m laying on my deathbed, I always say yes to the chance to spar for an hour with my two favorite radio personalities, Trent and Kyle Bauer.

I plugged that into a time slot in my daily equation and came up with a few things that would need to be juggled around. Because radio requires nothing but talking on the phone, I decided I would prepare dinner and take uniform inventory during that time.

While taking notes on the cattle sale and doing laundry, I suddenly remembered I hadn’t even thought about my column. With only 45 minutes before radio time, I realized there just wasn’t enough time to write, do my hair and makeup and watch the video sales on the Internet. So the column was sacrificed for hair and makeup. (I have my priorities.)

With radio time drawing near, my schedule was working out well. I had my laptop on my kitchen counter, taking notes on what was selling at the Prince Edward Island sale, and making cheesy potatoes when Trent called. I assured him I was ready for radio and continued to create a hearty meal for my family that would hopefully be on the table when they walked in the door.

Four minutes into the show I heard a beep-beep on my phone. It was a text message from my oldest. Trying to listen to Trent and Kyle on the radio and read my text, I was able to see that my son was asking, “Can you make some cupcakes for me for physics class today?”

Responding was going to be tricky … but listening and texting back with one index finger, I was able to reply “When?” while still discussing the value of FFA and 4-H at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo. The next beep-beep came in and it said “like 30 min.”
And, like a fool I answered, “Yes.”

When I discovered I had no cake mixes and had to make these cupcakes in 30 minutes from scratch while talking on the radio and trying to conceal the sound of the mixer, I knew I was in trouble. But that didn’t stop me; I measured, poured, melted and stirred while expounding on the virtues of FFA, why this country should make it required curriculum in every school system and that we don’t expect enough out of our kids.

The squeaking oven door alerted my comrades that I was up to more than just Rural Route Radio and they began to ask questions. I was able to steer them to another subject and continued baking, until my son and his two friends walked in the door. I had to flag them down so they didn’t talk too loudly and they quietly looked for the neatly frosted cupcakes.

When they saw a dozen warm, unfrosted cupcakes sitting on the cooling rack, they waved goodbye and set out for plan B – the grocery store bakery.

By this time my husband was motioning me to get in the truck to head to our appointment. I grabbed my purse while standing on my soapbox preaching that I don’t think moms are responsible for kids not coming back to the farm, hopped in the truck and realized I left cupcakes in the oven.

I waved for my husband to stop, dashed back in the house, took the cupcakes out of the oven, ran back out to the truck – and the gig was up. They asked, “Melissa, what was that noise? What on earth are you doing?” They knew I wasn’t sitting at my desk formulating careful and deliberate thoughts about the subject at hand.

I should have started that morning repeating the mantra, “No … No … No.” But that would only lead to “Boring … boring … boring.”

Readers with questions or comments for Melissa Hart may write to her in care of this publication.