4:30 a.m.
“Mom. Mom. Mom.”
“What?”
“I had a bad dream.”
Sit up so Jackson can squeeze in between me and Jack. Quickly reaccustom myself to sleeping while teetering on a two-inch slice of mattress.
5:30 a.m.
Clock radio begins playing some blowsy string orchestra piece. Quickly shut off alarm, check breathing of bedmates with hope that they are still asleep. Success.
5:45 a.m.
Everyone on the highway has had way more coffee than me at this point. What’s the hurry, people? Jesus.
6:00 a.m.
Open the door into a warm yoga studio. Robyn is already there, and another guy whose name I can never remember. Jim? Tim? He has a British accent, is all I know about him. He smiles and nods and I unroll my mat next to his. A full practice takes me two hours, but today I’ve only got until 7:00. I do what I can to keep my body from slowly, painfully contracting into a dry husk of withered flesh. Ask me in 50 years if it worked.
7:00 a.m.
People have trickled in and the room is almost full now. I am winding things up and don’t worry, beautiful uptight woman across from me, your updog is truly spectacular. You’re twenty years younger than me, it’s no contest. Do you want to win yoga? You win. Have a nice day.
7:15 a.m.
Stop at market for milk. Oh, how about a raspberry scone, I’ve already worked it off, right?
7:30 a.m.
Give milk to Jack for Jackson’s breakfast. Decide to take dogs for a quick walk on the beach so they don’t lose their minds being stuck inside all day.
7:45 a.m.
God, one of these days Cookie is just going to wash out to sea. Have a nice trip to Australia! Quit drinking saltwater, you’re just going to barf it all back up, Jesus.
7:55 a.m.
Wave to Jack and Jackson, driving off to school. My back seat is covered with sand. Should I give the dogs baths now or should I realize that no one made Jackson’s lunch? And also realize that I have a root canal in an hour? I didn’t need a shower anyway.
8:30 a.m.
Get to Jackson’s school with a lunch bag full of Jell-O, Cheezits, a peanut butter sandwich made with the bread he hates, and other ridiculous foods from our cupboard, but I can’t give it to him because it’s time for assembly and everybody’s saying the pledge of allegiance. Ask a fellow mother to give Jackson his lunch and run back to the car.
8:55 a.m.
Realize I haven’t followed up with woman I contacted through Craigslist to buy her extra ticket for John McLaughlin Friday night. Thank God for my iPhone (again), find her number in an e-mail, and tell her that if all goes well I’ll pick up the ticket around 10:30.
11:00 a.m.
“That’s very rare! Less than 1% of the population have molars with four roots!”
11:30 a.m.
Find an ATM and call the ticket woman to apologize and tell her I’m on my way.
11:31 a.m.
Holy shit, I’m almost out of gas.
11:55 a.m.
I make it home. I have a half hour to eat a proper (not scone-based) breakfast/lunch, take a shower, figure out what to wear, and get out the door to work. But wait! Our mortgage payment was due yesterday! I have to go to the bank and pay it directly.
12:35 p.m.
God, I hate this bank. They’re so fucking cheerful.
12:55 p.m.
Park my car in the lot and run to the office.
1:00 p.m.-5:30 p.m.
Work, work, work, work, work.
5:35 p.m.
Call Jack. What do you want for dinner? Jack has a homeowner’s association meeting at 6:30, so Jackson and I are on our own. I have 50 minutes to get to the store and OH MY GOD I NEED GAS.
5:50 p.m.
WTF is up with this traffic, it’s never this bad. Oh, hello, people standing mortified but unhurt by the side of the road while tow trucks disentangle your three-car pileup! We didn’t need that lane anyway. Hope your insurance company doesn’t drop you!
6:10 p.m.
I am that lady in work clothes buying frozen pizza and a bottle of wine, yes. Do you want to step outside? I DIDN’T THINK SO.
6:20 p.m.
“I’m sorry, I had to stop at the gas station, I think I was running on fumes. If you have to get to your meeting go ahead, Jackson will be fine for five minutes by himself.”
“Are you pumping? Right now?”
“Yes, I’m PUMPING.”
“This is the closest we’ll get to having sex today, isn’t it?”
6:30 p.m.
Preheat oven. Open wine. The dogs look hungry. Do the dogs look hungry?
“Jackson, do you know if anyone fed the dogs?”
“No.”
“No, you don’t know?”
“Yes.”
7:00 p.m.
Fall into a hole of pizza, wine, Bloglines, and Facebook. Is that a — yes, that IS a picture of Patrick’s underpants.
8:00 p.m.
“Yeah, so you should probably get ready for bed now.”
9:00 p.m.
But, you know, some horrible magician’s award show is on.
9:30 p.m.
Okay! One more page of Diary of a Wimpy Kid and then you HAVE to go to sleep.
9:45 p.m.
“Tell me a story about you when you were a kid.”
11:00 p.m.
Wake up, get out of Jackson’s bed, find night guard, get in bed with Jack. Get out of bed because yes, the front door WAS unlocked, go back to bed.
Now I feel so tense.
Wow, I hadn’t realized I was so tired this morning. I suddenly feel completely exhausted. If anyone needs me, I’ll be under my desk.
Love you. Don’t know you but love your writing.
That’s my day just about every day.
Hope it gets easier.
Word.
“Tell me a story about when you were a kid” is one of my favorite tricks to pull on my boyfriend when I don’t have the sleepy feeling. Nice work kid.
I got to 12:55 and then I had to go pour a cup of coffee, because that’s what time of day I ALWAYS want to take a nap and you’re just starting your work-day? Insanity!
If it makes you feel any better, you would totally beat me at yoga.
I loved everything about this. Everything.
You are so VERY much my hero.
Oh god, I’m exhausted just reading about your day.
Thank you for not making it look easy. That whole work:kid:husband gig thing.
Every once and a while I think I might want to try. You bring me back to reality.
ps: If I saw you in the store, I’d offer to buy you a second bottle of wine!
I didn’t realize I would experience PTSD reading your blog, but the random John McLaughlin reference struck me between the eyes. I hope you’re referring to the musician and NOT 80-something political commentary guy. I worked for the latter for 6 weeks and brrr…
Sounds about right.
I love that lady in work clothes buying frozen pizza and a bottle of wine! She’s like, all time top 5!
HAHAHA!
“This is the closest we’ll get to having sex today, isn’t it?”…I’m gonna say this to my husband (minus the “isn’t it?”)
Classic!
“Tell me a story about you when you were a kid.”
That happens here too, though thankfully at 8:05pm. For now.
“You win at yoga”.
Hilarious. (And SO true sometimes. WTF?)
I have one word for you: http://www.FlyLady.net. She will change your life.
I felt oddly compelled to tell you that I really liked this post. Well, I do. Like it.
Umm, yeah that’s all.
Ok, carry on.
Genius.
Also kind of like my days except add: commute 3 hours round trip, work full time. And may I add that I have absolutely no sense of humor about this.
Sounds just like one of my days except for the yoga. I should, but I don’t do any exercise. I’m 38 and in desperate need for a little movement.
That’s more stress before 9 AM than most people get all day.
Good thing we get a clean start each morning?
LOL, the yoga comment was priceless. “You win.”
As far as the rest of your day goes, I am actually feeling somewhat exhausted after reading it.
This is my day nearly every day too – two inch slice of mattress, huz leaving the door (or doors as is the case most of the time) unlocked, competitive twenty-something twirp (I let her beat me at pulling into the parking garage at work). WINE.
Good stuff.
That made me really tired, which is odd because our days are so similar, minus the yoga and the beach.
Jesus… I’m exhausted reading that.
I was on the edge of my seat! Awesome blog! Can’t wait to see what a busy day looks like:)
I was just sitting here and feeling oh-so-very-tired because I just went grocery shopping. I am a freaking pansy compared to you.
From that day? Bossy is exhausted. Also tired.
Sweetie, do you have to get up so early?
I thought my days were crazy but I sleep later than you.
5:30? That’s when I go to bed. 8:30 is when I wake up.
you blogged the whole day, i m having trouble blogging the once a day this march
http://listinglunatic.blogspot.com isn’t that good this year!
http://www.cocomamamusic.com for some salsa
god lord.
Oh dear. I AM the woman buying chicken pot pies (they cook faster than pizza) and a bottle of win.
Your day (while hectic) is far more enjoyable than mine. Thank you for reminding me I really need to look for another gig.
I’m still laughing about ‘do you want to win yoga’.
Well now that I’ve read through all the posts and some of her site I’ve learned some things.
1) I have a dishwasher and don’t need to clean my sink.
2) I have a Korean husband and we never wear shoes indoors, so being out of my shoes IS good to go.
3) My humour is non sequitur as well as snarky. No wonder I’m such a pain in the ass. Thank you for the opportunity though.
“Do you want to win yoga? You win. Have a nice day.” HILARIOUS! So does this mean it doesn’t get easier when the newborn turns into a real live boy? Please tell me it gets easier. Please.
The only time I ever got up at 6am for yoga was when I went to the Kripalu Center for a few day program and that was the first yoga of the day. I was WIPED out the first day there because lights out was 9pm and I just can’t sleep at 9pm! I was up until something like 1am and then got up at 5:00 for 5:30 am gentle yoga. Loved it, but it was HARD to get up that early, even for something I love as much as yoga.