When I was 13, I was hired by a neighbor to help prepare the food for her infant son's christening party. As I hung out shyly in the kitchen waiting for direction, the lady of the house buzzed frantically from room to room in preparation. She then off-handedly said to her sister, "Guess what I had for breakfast? Diet Coke and yogurt." I could tell immediately what she meant--she was a mother of a new baby, preparing for a big event, and she was harried, hassled, trying to keep it all together. She was having a Diet-Coke-and-yogurt-for-breakfast kind of morning.