Submitted by Natasha in Alberta, Canada (To read more about Natasha, visit her website Becoming Something.)
3:15 am Awake to sudden, sharp crying: Lulu, the Perpendicular Wonderchild, snuck into our bed despite our recent lectures about staying in her bed. She was between me and nothingness. I suddenly jerked or moved in bed in response to my dream (probably doing the Conga with Gloria Estefan again) and I knocked her off onto the floor.
3:30 Still awake because she’s crying intermittently, sleepily, in her bed about all of these nighttime injustices we foist upon her.
7:00 Jude wakes me up and says the same thing he says almost every weekday morning, half apologetic, half resentful: “I need your help getting the kids some breakfast. I have to start getting ready for work.” I slump downstairs like a rotten, miserable teenager, speaking a well-worn monosyllabic language I’ve invented for these morning occasions and finish making toast with jam for the kids. They are not big eaters in the morning. I marvel at the geometric shapes Jude has made while cutting the homemade bread himself. You might wonder how many different ways one can slice bread. The answer: As many angles as exist in mathematics.
7:33 Tell the kids to hurry up and get dressed, brush their teeth, brush their hair. Same thing I say every morning. So, why do I feel the need to say it? I think I’m going to start shortening this down to just “Go get ready” and then I can save like, one or two seconds everyday that DO add up, you know. Did you ever see that skit on Saturday Night Live in the ’90s? These seconds add up and make all the difference between me dying as a lowly professional bread slicer or dying having been Prime Minister.
7:40 I start making lunches. I usually put this off as long as possible, preferring to curl up on the sofa or chair, trying to nap for a few minutes. And if you know me, you know that this is attempting the impossible. It takes me AT LEAST 20 minutes to fall asleep for nappage no matter how tired I am and really, it usually takes much longer.
7:43 Lunch making gets interrupted for family prayer. Josie says it this time, which means it will be short. Jude usually says it because I like it when he sends us off with his paternal love.
7:45 I tell Josie to change her shirt. “I don’t care how I look!” ”I know, but I do. Your non-matching clothing and your messy hair makes it look like no one cares about you. And yesterday I let you go with that look and the day before but at some point I need to make it look like you’re not an orphan.” The real problem is the haircut I gave her.
7:50 I brush girls’ hair. They cry. They cry 95% of the times I brush their hair. I hold in my frustration and do not break the brushes over their heads because I know from personal childhood experience that this HURTS.
7:52 Izzy the Dog bites Josie’s hand. Sigh.
7:53 I can’t wait for Daisy and Montana to leave for the bus because it feels like one big thing accomplished. I remind myself not to forget the cheque for the piano teacher.
8:06 They are out the door. Josie is practicing her songs for her upcoming piano recital and later music festival. I am filling in the cheque for the piano teacher.
8:07 I stick the cheque to our metal front door with a magnet. DON’T FORGET TO BRING THE CHEQUE, I tell myself.
8:08 Lulu has pajama day at preschool today. AWESOME. I tell her to put her pjs back on because it’s not Nudist Day yet.
8:30 I phone the chiropractor to say that I forgot that I double booked myself this morning. I’ll have to cancel that massage therapy appointment. And move my chiropractic adjustment to 11:10. They tell me that without four hours’ notice they will have to charge me for the appointment unless they can fill it. I respond that I totally understand. I choose to miss this massage appointment instead of my telephone therapy appointment because 1. I don’t have a phone number for the therapist. He phones me. The appointment was set up through a middleman. 2. My legs are way not shaved.
8:45 Getting Lulu dressed. Getting me dressed. I ask Josie if she has her piano books. I tell her she doesn’t need to wear her snow pants, that she can just bring them.
8:47 I run upstairs to get my watch so that I can walk Izzy while Josie is at piano, and be aware of when her lesson is almost done. As I’m running upstairs I remind myself to take that cheque off the door and put it in my pocket.
8:48 What am I missing? I wonder. My iPod! And Lulu’s Dora slippers!
8:49 I unhook Izzy from the doorknob where she’s usually leashed to keep her from pummeling Lulu and sniffing out all the Webkinz in the house. We leave the house and head to the van.
8:51 Lulu is strapped into her carseat. Izzy is on the front passenger seat, leash looped to the headrest.
9:00 Drop Josie off at her piano lesson. Realize that I forgot the cheque. ARGH! Josie says she also forgot her snow pants and it’s sweet how she asks me so politely if I could bring them back for her and she’s grateful when I say yes. But I wonder if she was so polite and grateful because she was expecting me to grumble about it?? Hmmm.
9:05 Arrive at preschool. Lulu suddenly erupts into tears. ”I don’t want to go to preschool! I want to go to school. I’m a big girl!” She keeps her left arm hooked to her carseat strap so I can’t easily remove her. She makes it for the back of the van but I’m too fast. ”You always have fun at preschool!” I say as I bring her in. We walk through the doors. ”Look! Even your teachers are in their pajamas!” She laughs her delightful little girl laugh– the one she always laughs when she’s being cheered out of tears. Jude knows what I mean.
9:10 Fetch the cheque and snow pants. Realize that my iPod is out of battery juice.
9:11 Take Izzy out of the van and walk her around my neighborhood, down the path behind my house, to the big clearing where she can run around. Hope that she gets to the clearing and bushes before she poops because I don’t have a bag. She likes to carry the end of her leash in her mouth and jump in the snow and borrow her nose and eat the snow. She’s so cute.
9:23 Start heading back to the van. Izzy is off leash and listening very well. When she gets too far away I say, “Wait” or “Come” and she listens. But she sees an open gate into someone’s yard. She races in and heads to the side of Hailey’s house, like she’s been here before. She seems really enthralled with the dirt. “COME, Izzy, COME! Come HERE!” I wonder, Is she EATING the dirt? I make my way to her up the hilly backyard and as I get closer I see what I most dread: She is eating dog poop. Well, that’s just rosy-cozy. We’ve been doing our best to keep her from the cat’s litter box, despite Jude calling Izzy a real time saver, but there’s a veritable fruit salad of dog poop once we leave our house! I feel powerless to the magnetic forces of poop. Sigh. Must be more vigilant.
9:24 I load Izzy into the van so that she can tour around with me instead of being bored at home. She gets a bunch of kitty litter onto the seat because Jude used it as a form of traction when things were really icy. The kitty litter gets stuck in our boots and Izzy’s paws and leaves grey marks all over my floor, every day, and in the van. I grumble inwardly for about the 12th time since he did this. The cat must be totally confused, too. As I start to reverse, I’m gagging and nearly throwing up. Izzy’s mouth, very near to my face, reeks of dog poop. Hand over my mouth, I take her out of the van and tie her to the front door knob. She’ll just have to sit there bored and wait.
9:31 I pick up Josie, hand Debbie the cheque for admission into the music festival.
9:36 Driving Josie to school I listen to some commentary on CBC radio about the difficult lives of contract University professors. I feel weepy as I realize that I wish I could spend a lot more time keeping on top of issues like this. I wish I could write articles about such things. I wish for the luxury of time and energy to use that time to its fullest. Josie heads into the school. I feel a bit weepy as I look at my little baby, my firecracker, my little lawyer, my mini-me struggle to open the big door– backpack over the crook of her right elbow, snow pants draped over her left arm, skinny legs in red jeans, big pink boots, a size too big because they were all I could find. I’m so proud of her and one day I’ll look back at this time and think that she was really a baby now, at age 7. She’ll seem so cute and small whereas now she’s my biggest girl and seems it.
9:42 I pull up to my driveway and remember that I own a dog.
9:45 I brush my teeth (finally) before my phone therapy appointment. Put on a bit of make-up. This new mascara has to be returned. It’s either totally dried up or a new product idea that should never have made it past the brainstorm board at Rimmel’s parent company.
10:00 Waiting.
10:05 Check my email.
10:15 Figure out that therapist John is not going to phone. I look at my phone and check the call display. A private caller phoned at 9:00, 9:05, 9:15 and I realize that was him. I sit on my bed totally annoyed that TWO therapists now keep getting our appointments wrong and I think, Oh, he better not say that it was me who got this wrong. I SAID 10:00 and he said, ‘So, that’s 12:00 my time.’ I phone Jude to complain about how I had to cancel and pay for my massage appointment for nothing. Then I notice an email from John telling me that I missed our 9:00 appointment. I quickly get off the phone with Jude.
10:20 I phone John. ”Hi, John. It’s Natasha. Our appointment was at 10:00.” And gratefully, he doesn’t argue with me about this. He says he has time now and we could still talk for an hour. We have a conversation that annoys me.
11:15 As I’m realizing that I’m getting nothing out of this session, I suddenly remember my chiropractor appointment. I listen to John talk about something as I put on my boots and coat and leave, lock the door and start the van. I interrupt him to say I have to go and that I’ll call for another appointment time. Except that that thing he told me at the very beginning of our first session is probably right: I need more long term care than this free service through Jude’s employer provides. Ha!
11:18 I’m driving, wondering which I should be late for: picking up Lulu from preschool or my chiro appointment? I choose preschool.
11:25 I pay for my pee box. (I assure you that’s a sentence I’ve never written before now.) I had an appointment last night with the naturopath and we decided to get me a urine thyroid test. It’s $220 out of my pocket and I have to pee in a plastic lined box for 24 hours. Like, not 24 hours STRAIGHT. That would be a lot to ask for. I don’t have that kind of talent. I collect it for that whole period, then stir it up (hey, like a fun cooking project! Maybe I can get my kids in on it!) and then vial it and send it away to a lab. I get my back, neck and ankles cracked.
11:37 Lulu runs to greet me. I swoop her tiny body up like I always do and kiss her ridiculously adorable doll face. She has two cookies that she helped make. They are of chocolate Teddy Grahams tucked into a bed of cookie. Hard to explain in one sentence.
11:46 I arrive to pick up Daisy. I talk with a couple of moms. There’s a group of women here that I really, really like. Alas, it’s too windy and cold to chat while the kids play outside, as per our usual routine. I lure Daisy into the van with the promise of a cookie that Lulu made for her.
11:51 Pick up mail. A phone bill. Boring.
11:52 Get home. Look at the foot prints all over the floor from the outdoor litter box. Sigh. Throw together some lunch for the girls: grapes, multi-grain nacho chips, leftover steak. I eat whole wheat English muffins smothered with goat cheese and red pepper/garlic tapanade. Then I eat some Ah!Caramel cakes and feel really guilty because sugar is really bad for me. I take none of my pills. Because I’m rebellious and stupid. It feels like a chore. Why must I be so complicated? I talk to Jude on the phone while eating my lunch and my sugar poison. (Also, I do this while sitting on a stool in the pantry, with the door closed, so the girls won’t see me and ask for any.)
12:30pm I retreat to my bed to talk with Jude some more and begin this blog post. But I suddenly feel very tired. The snow has started to fall. It’s thick but light and graceful and the sun is determined to filter through the flakes, creating a beautiful glow. The glow shines onto my white sheets, making a very inviting nap spot and I lay my head in that exact spot. The house is strangely and wonderfully quiet. I tell Jude I need to nap and I try, I really do. But I’m eventually interrupted by the dog, cries from Lulu who needs help onto the toilet, Daisy who wants this or that, the sound of Lulu going through my make-up bag all the while I’m telling her to stop going through my make-up bag. It was pretty cute that she carried the bags away from my earshot, I guess, to the landing on the stairs.
3:45 Montana and Josie come home. I tell them to help Daisy look for her Sparks book and doll she has to take back to Sparks tonight. (A pre-Brownies group, in Girl Guides organization.) I get out of bed, very groggy and somewhat resentful. I scrub make-up off of Lulu’s face. I send her downstairs to play or, more realistically, make a ton of messes for me to clean up. I start on this blog post. I twitter. I respond to a blog comment. I check email. Jude phones.
5:00 I realize that it’s definitely time to start on supper. Daisy has Sparks at 6:00, I think, Josie has Brownies at the same time, and Montana has cubs at our church at 6:15, I think. I can never remember. But Jude does and that’s what’s important.
I make them a basic cucumber salad, peel some blood oranges, put out the nacho chips again. I planned to make some salmon steaks but run out of time.
5:30 Jude comes home. We all look for the lost book that Daisy was supposed to bring back to Sparks. I tell Jude to tell them to not send this book and doll home anymore because we have too many kids and a dog that get into stuff and things easily get misplaced and I’m too exhausted lately to care. Daisy bemoans that I didn’t take a photo of her for the book. I tell her that she needs to give me more than a half hour’s notice because it’s tedious to take her photo, upload it to the computer and print it off and we’re completely out of ink.
As I’m looking for the missing book (that was already in many pieces when we received it, totally setting us up for failure-lol) I get incensed at all the crap under the furniture and on the floor. I tell the kids that if they can’t pick up their books and put them where they belong, they will only be allowed to read in their rooms. I tell them that I’m throwing out some of their stuff. If they can’t pick it up, I’m just going to toss it. And I do. I lament that our Shop Vac is broken because it sure would come in handy. Lulu got into some buttons a while back and we keep finding buttons on the living room floor. They just mysteriously appear.
5:45 Jude leaves with the three kids. I realize that he forgot the Brownie forms (that are already late) that are stuck to the door with a magnet. I run out and call to him. The dog runs out too almost pulling the door closed on my hand, because she is tied to the doorknob. I grab her leash and yank her back but she’s strong and is pulling me the other way. This further infuriates me. I just lose it, after my day of busy frustration, and I yank on her collar and practically throw her into the house while screaming that she’s a “stupid dog!”. Jude looks at me with a mixture of sympathy and pity.
5:46 I find a Brownie paper on the floor that I never filled out. It’s supposed to have a photo of Josie on it. Ya, well, I have this little problem called Extreme Online Photo Disorganization where I never develop them and don’t always know where to locate them. I quickly fill out the form and run outside. Jude’s pulling out. I impersonate an air traffic controller and just as he’s pulling away he notices me. I’m grateful that I know he’s not going to be impatient with me as he comes back for the 3rd piece of paper.
7:00 Lulu buries her face into the sofa and cries out, “Oh, mommy!” She’s really tired. Remember that falling out of bed stuff? I ask her if she wants to go to bed now early. She says yes. I get her pj’d up, brush her teeth and she wants to wear her vest over her pjs. She also wants me to read this little Nancy Drew life instruction book thing only because it’s a tiny little book and she likes small books. So, I do and it makes no sense to her and she giggles. She says her prayer. I say goodnight.
7:02 Lulu is miraculously cured of her fatigue. She takes off her vest, her jammies, puts her vest back on, finds a pair of pants she had abandoned on the floor and in one outfit, symbolically reverses my entire night-time-tucking-in efforts.
And now it’s 8:07. Jude and the kids came home. The girls had a bunch of new papers for me to keep track of. Organizing all their school things and extra-curricular things is the bane of my existence. I always thought I was an organized person until I had kids.
Tomorrow is a day off from school. I have a ton of cleaning to do and I’m hoping for some energy like I’ve experienced for two days in a row. TWO DAYS IN A ROW! Jude has a bunch of work to do tonight, as every night these days. I’m anxious to get these kids into bed to watch Lost, and, if I’m lucky, have a jetted bath with Jude.
And you thought I was going to wrap this up with some cliche, mushy conclusion about Life, huh? Okay, okay. How’s this:
At one point today, as I was walking the poop-eating dog back to the van, I was thinking, Even if my dog eats poop and even if Life itself is sometimes poopy, as hard as it is and as much as I vent, I’m really happy. When I step out of my circumstances and look at the overall picture, I’m happy with my decisions and my circumstances. I WANT to go through this annoying stuff… now and then. This is what Life is about. If my life doesn’t fill up an HBO special of a blog post, like my friend Brent jokingly said, then maybe I’m not doing it right.
