This Day in the Life Diaries from American Women

On the Home Front with a "Type A" Television Reporter Amanda Lamb, 38, Cary, North Carolina A crime reporter for WRAL television in Raleigh, she loves her jobthe investigative aspect, having sources, getting tips, getting to know the families on both sides of the case. The job also appeals to the writer in her. "Every day I'm telling a story." She's comfortable in courtrooms (both her parents are lawyers) and loves a good mystery, real or fiction. Outgoing. Organized, "sometimes to a fault." Goal oriented. After graduating from Northwestern, she drove up and down the Eastern Seaboard with a box of tapes in her car, knocking on station doors. She landed her first job three months later, gradually advancing her career with an eye toward the bigger markets. Halfway there, she adjusted her goals when she fell in love with a metals recycler and drummer. "My life happened here in Raleigh." Married eight years and mom to two daughters, ages four and one, she feels lucky to have a career and a family. "Raleigh is a medium marketa good place to do TV and still have a life." Like most working moms, balance is the big issue. Her strategy? "I don't think you can achieve it. The closest you can come to balance is being in the moment. When you're with the kids, be there 100 percent and don't think about work. And when you're at work, focus on that instead of feeling guilty." 1:09 a.m. I hear the baby, Chloe, flailing around in the playpen, the rustling of sheets, the rattling of toys, the heavy pacifier-sucking noise. She reminds me of a live fish, still hooked on the deck of a boat as she arches her back and wriggles on the thin mattress. In my sleepy fog, her sheets sound like someone crumpling wads of crisp newspaper. I do not usually sleep in the same room with my daughter, but we are on vacation. Vacation is a funny word for what this is, two endless weeks with children in constant, close, needy proximity. 3:00 a.m. Chloe is snoring now. I need to go to the bathroom, but if I wake her I'm sunk. If she realizes I am here in the room with her, she will want me. Her head will pop up over the edge of the playpen and she will lift her arms, the universal "hold me" sign for babies. Then comes the scream, piercing, impossible to ignore. I decide to hold it. 5:44 a.m. Our rooms at home have blackout shades that let in very little light. On the other hand, rental homes at the beach are built to let light in. The early morning light dapples the bedroom comforter. This looks good in the rental brochure, but is not good for young children. It wakes them up, and in turn wakes us up. This morning, day four of vacation, is no exception, although I hoped it would be. I whisk her out of the crib into my arms to keep her from waking her grandmother and sister in the room across the hall. My husband is joining us for the second week of vacation, so for now I'm on my own. I don't know how single mothers do it. 6:00 a.m. You can hear my other daughter, Mallory, coming from a mile away. She is loud, brazen, disturbing to us and the tenants in the condo below. The man who is staying downstairs with his family asked me yesterday whether we had hardwood floors in our unit because it was "so loud!" Mallory jumps onto the bed and begins her passive-aggressive ritual with her baby sister. She makes her laugh and then sits on her head. Mallory is four and a half. She is beautiful, difficult, funny, smart, and complicated. One minute I adore her, the next minute she makes me want to get on a bus and leave town. 6:15 a.m. I give up. There is no possibility of sleep. Eating isRakhra, B. K. is the author of 'This Day in the Life Diaries from American Women' with ISBN 9781400082322 and ISBN 1400082323.