In case of emergency, put the oxygen mask on yourself first.

Except I can't seem to decide what constitutes an emergency. Everything seems to be one. Potty learning. That begets some emergencies, doesn't it? Trying to get my daughter in her own bed before the new baby comes, that's an emergency, isn’t it? Screaming toddler with ear infection emergency, right?

I do need that oxygen mask. If you’re a mama, you likely need one too.

I gather the “oxygen mask” should be something like 15 minutes a day to do yoga, read, or just stare at four walls—essentially whatever you can do to rest, recuperate, and get back in touch with that person formerly known as you.

Of course, in my life—and probably yours too—that 15-minutes is rather like a dog that keeps getting loose in the neighborhood. "Come here, 15 Minutes, where are you, 15 Minutes? ” I’m shouting at nobody in particular. “Come! Sit. Now stay!" Naturally, he, she or it doesn’t.

Obviously, I can’t take the concept of "15 Minutes" seriously. But that's OK. I've learned to cope in my own way:

Laughter.

When you get right down to it, there’s nothing left to do but laugh—especially since I can’t turn my brain off for 15 minutes anyway.

The emergencies of motherhood have refined my sense of humor to the point that I am the giddiest stressed-out person you’ve ever seen. I figure this is the yin and yang of motherhood. Buddha would have had a vastly different definition for zen had he been a mother, right?

Pee-drenched laundry lying around the house? Hilarity! People asking when my daughter will sleep in her own bed so I can answer "16?" Hysterical! And my personal favorite: paying someone to shine a light in my child's ear so he can tell me what I already know? Pure comedy.

If I ever do find 15 Minutes and it’s attached to that oxygen mask, I’m really hoping there’s a little nitrus in there now that would be nirvana.