My Crazy Life
Why It Works & Why I Love It
January 23, 2008
By Denise Koch
Photography By Bryan Burris
Television news anchor Denise Koch with daughtersJo (left) and Meg in front of the barn where the girls’ horses live.
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I remember it well. I was having lunch with my friend Sandra Magsamen and we were laughing about a recent article that said women’s brains are hardwired for multitasking but men’s brains … well, they aren’t. Of course we both already knew that, having been married for years.
But there was nothing funny about another study that said multitasking isn’t good for the brain. In fact, it said that multitasking frazzles the mind, actually damages it, putting the brain in an “excited state.” An excited state! Well, that would be a good description of my brain most of the time. In fact, I survive by maintaining an excited state from approximately 6:45 a.m. to 12:45 a.m. most every day. If multitasking is damaging, then I am damaged goods.
My life is no more difficult or complicated than any other working mother’s. I say “working mother” because that’s the only kind of mother I’ve ever been. Mothering may be even harder if it is your full-time job.
I have 13-year-old twin daughters. I work full time as an anchor at WJZ-TV on a night shift. I’ve got to meet three deadlines every day, all in front of a camera that shoots my face closer than the human eye was meant to see a face. I have a very supportive husband who does all he can around the house. But he is not a multitasker, so let’s just say my housework could qualify as second employment.
Denise gets ready to go on-camera at WJZ-TV, Baltimore's CBS affiliate. Photography courtesy of WJZ-TV.
At the television station I do not have what I would call a difficult job, but there is a stress factor that takes a toll. There are those deadlines and the problems of wardrobe, hair and makeup, which are all my responsibility and require me to look into a mirror more often than even Dr. Phil would call healthy. Fortunately, I’m an adrenaline junkie, so I live for the days when news is breaking and I’m running in high gear. I don’t know how heart-healthy that is, and I know exercise is a stress reducer, so I also try to cram a workout into my daily schedule. I don’t belong to a club, but we have sweat machines in the basement and I also love a fast walk in fresh air.
To understand my life you have to understand the term “back timing.” Television producers back time broadcasts. I back time my life. If I have to be at work at 3:30, I have to leave home at 3:13. That means I have to be in the shower by 2:30, which means I have to exercise by at least 2, which means I have to be done making my family’s dinner by 1:45, which means I have to be back from the grocery store by 1, which means I have to start chores at noon, which means I have to finish any appointments by 11:45. My life is a run-on sentence. And this is a normal day. If you throw in a teacher conference or a charity luncheon or a doctor’s appointment, everything gets compressed. “Compressed” rhymes with “stressed.”
We own one dog, two cats, two ponies and a hamster, but they are the easiest of my dependents to care for. Each stage of my daughters’ lives has required a different organization of my hours outside of work. When they started first grade, I became an active volunteer at their school and often shared lunch in the cafeteria so I could stay connected. Last year, when they transferred to Garrison Forest School, the commute — and the long days, with horseback riding after school — tipped the delicate balance of our family life. So we somehow managed to buy a house right near the school, sell our old house and move, all in three months. And it’s a good thing we moved, because the ponies soon joined our brood; having them at school means I can meet with the vet, check on their well-being and drop off “stuff” at the barn on my way to work each day. Figure that into the back timing.
If you take a look inside my car, glance at my desk or search my purse, you’ll see a half dozen or so legal pads with the lists that keep it all going. I have household lists, family medical lists, upcoming holiday lists, money and business lists. I scribble lists on script pages during newscasts. Ecstasy for me is scratching an item off a list or tossing an entire page. I sleep better when the lists are in order. Lists are an adjunct of multitasking. So is doing two tasks at once. If I’m walking upstairs, I grab everything that belongs upstairs and put it all away before grabbing everything that goes downstairs for the descent. I never pass a chore without doing it on my way to a second chore. And I do it all really, really fast. I walk fast, talk fast, breathe fast. Just ask my family.
I suppose the hardest part of my “crazy life” is the hours. I come home to a sleeping house. The only light in the bedroom is the TV flickering with the caption running. I’ve learned to fall asleep reading captions the way some people read books. To get enough sleep, I’ve learned the art of napping. When my girls walk out the door to school around 7:30, I head back to bed and grab an hour or two until it all adds up to seven.
I have a great life, but I struggle with many of the challenges that most women face. When the day is done, there’s no energy left for myself. For that reason I keep trying to find new pleasures. In the past five years I’ve taken up running, tennis, yoga, piano and riding. I don’t do any of these things well, but I really enjoy the process of learning.
I figured out long ago that my nature, if left unchecked, would not lead me toward a happy life. I’m far too obsessive. So I consciously began seeking balance and joy. That journey led me to my wonderful girls, so I must have been onto something.
I’ve turned my back on vanity. If I hadn’t I would never have survived those early years with babies when I’d find myself at the grocery store in slippers with formula on my shoulder. And, let’s face it, I’ve aged in the public eye over the past two decades. And if I’d tried to hang onto vanity, my girls would have crushed it anyway; these days everything I say or do or wear is so “totally wrong.”
There are times when I feel as though I’m running as fast as I can and I’ll never catch up. But I work hard at telling myself to simply enjoy the race. There’s no ribbon at the end, no finish line (at least none I care to contemplate). There is just this crazy life, and I fall asleep grateful most every night.
