monday, just a day

Monday completely got away from me, so I missed a day of my personal daily writing challenge. Oh well, in my defense, it was a very full day. And it gave me an idea for this post – why not take a quick look at a typical day, maybe even for self-analysis purposes? I should probably reflect more often on this sort of thing. I wonder sometimes if my idea of a normally paced day is maybe a little skewed. When I revisit this day it felt pretty calm and unrushed, and at times, really enjoyable. There were moments of discomfort, but I went to bed relaxed and content. I do talk about being busy, and life is busy and full. Maybe I’m hardwired to be this way; maybe it’s weird to interject major dental work into a packed five hour period that also included a commute, weight training, making dinner from scratch (with puff pastry as an ingredient), and bath night for the kids, all after a full day of work and first day of camp shuttling. It didn’t feel weird at all to me, so maybe I no longer hear my warning sensors telling me to ease up a bit. Can that happen? I’m not sure, but maybe. It’s worth considering.

…..

6:30 am: Alarm goes off. This feels like a complete summertime luxury to me, at least for a workday. E’s middle school day started SO early, so camp schedule is a little more reasonable.

Alarm snooze: One hit, ten minutes, always. I call it my ten minute yoga practice. I only do one position, which is stretching out across my bed on my stomach, wishing it was Saturday, while deep breathing.

6:40 am: Up and at ’em. I wake up E because she does not like to be rushed in the morning. She prefers to take forty minutes to do what I can accomplish in about five – getting dressed, throwing her hair in a ponytail, and brushing her teeth. If she has children one day, that will cure her.

6:42 am: I jump in the shower for five minutes. I don’t do this every morning – only every two-three days. I take baths in the evening, sometimes just water soaks, and I shower after runs. Every shower morning I lament the fact that I didn’t plan for an extra 15 minutes for this task, including drying my hair. I just jam it in somehow.

6:50 am: I get dressed (easy choices, I have a very small wardrobe), yesterday: gray pants and cute black top, minimal makeup, switchover a load of clothes in the laundry room, make the bed, dump the clothes from the dryer onto the bed, plus the load sitting on the countertop. Sometimes I can get them folded, but not always. (We’re walking to camp, so I actually throw on shorts and a tee, but lay out my work clothes for a quick change when I return).

7:05 am: I gently encourage E’s snail pace, and go in to wake up F out of a deep sleep. I pick her up from her bed (50+ pounds of sleeping dead weight), and carry her to the couch in her room where we sit and cuddle for a few moments. I still dress her in the morning, as she’s waking up. It’s somewhat participatory, but she’s really slow to rise on school / camp mornings.

7:20 am: We all amble downstairs for breakfast. I offer oatmeal, they opt for yogurt, granola, and berries. They make their own. I make coffee in my chemex and oatmeal for myself. I empty last night’s dishes from the dishwasher while the water boils.

7:35 am: I finish signing the camp forms, attach them to the tuition checks, dole out the sunscreen to the girls to apply themselves, fill two water bottles, find one sun hat, fill my cooler bag with six bins of various leftovers, remind the girls to grab their lunches in the fridge (they made them the night before), fill up F’s Camelbak, ask F to brush her teeth, everyone gets shoes on and gear on, set the alarm, head out the door.

7:55 am: It’s flat out gorgeous outside. Cool still, but sunny. The ten minute walk to school (where they are attending camp) is delightful. The girls are excited and funny.

8:05 am: Camp drop off. It’s noisy and busy, but they know the drill, and I exit quickly. Then I power walk home, transforming into working woman. It’s uphill the whole way, but only ten blocks, half a mile at most.

8:18 am: I’m sweaty when I get back home, and I drink an entire glass of ice water I’ve already left waiting on the table. That always seems to help, at least enough for me to get dressed into nicer clothing without soaking them.

8:32 am: I’m in the car, along with my coffee, my ice water, my packed gym bag, my cooler bag of food, and my wallet. I haven’t carried a diaper bag in over five years, but I still look like a crazy bag lady.

8:41 am: I’m already at work – hooray for summertime traffic!

8:41 am-3:25 pm: Work, work, work. I’m in meetings at a jobsite for the morning, return to the office for scheduling meeting, then lunch (leftovers, yum), then a couple of hours to work at my desk.

3:30 pm: Dentist appointment down the street. They don’t call me back for twenty minutes, so I get through two Martha Stewart Living magazines in the waiting room. My favorite part is reading “Martha’s Calendar”. I love knowing when she’s administering her dogs’ flea and tick meds, and bringing in the last of the blooming peonies.

3:53-4:51 pm: Step one of getting a crown. Grinding of tooth, fourteen dozen impressions, and a temporary cap makes for a stellar afternoon. Did I mention I received three needles into the gums? I know that I’m drooling but I cannot feel it. That’s such a lovely feeling.

4:55 pm: I make the call that it’s not worth driving back to the office for three minutes of work before I have to leave for the gym. So I leave for the gym.

5:18 pm: I arrive at the gym, change clothes in the locker room, and hope that no one speaks directly to me because my mouth feels about the size of a cantaloupe, and I’m pretty sure I’m still drooling. I scrape off a little pink goo from my lips. I forgot my water bottle, so I head to the drinking fountain, which is completely comical as I cannot feel the entire lower half of my mouth or chin. I see M on a bike, and stop and say ‘hi’. He’s surprised to see me there after the dentist.

5:30-6:30 pm: Body Pump class. Not my first choice for a workout, but it’s the offering in the time slot my favorite classes were held while that instructor takes a two-session leave. Curious what kind of torture Body Pump is? Here’s a link. The class goes well, but it’s hard. I keep waiting for the numbness to wear off and the throbbing mouth pain to begin, but it doesn’t.

6:40 pm: Class wraps up and I head upstairs to pick up F from the kids’ room at the Y. M and E have left already for her violin lesson in the county. F and I head home to get dinner started. In the car she’s punchy and loud. Luckily it’s a five minute drive. I suggest that she employ some sort of engine check at home to help her adjust her tone and volume.

6:50 pm: We’re in the house, and F goes straight to the refrigerator and takes out a container of olives. She polishes them off. She is transformed into a decent human being again. She sits at the table while I prep dinner, then she heads upstairs to make a mouse house out of magnatiles. I empty the dishwasher while the assembled sweet pea pot pies chill in the fridge. She shows me how the mouse house driveway folds up at night so that no one will visit.

7:45 pm: Violin lessons are ending, and I’ve put the pot pies into the oven for twenty minutes. F and I set a timer and challenge ourselves to get through her shower in under six minutes. We are close, but not quite. I leave her brushing her wet hair in the bathroom to check on dinner.

8:15 pm: Dinner’s on the table – on Mondays we’re always eating rather late. M and E arrive home and we all dig in and talk about our days.

9:00 pm: F and I are up in her room, reading Ivy + Bean #2, and then one chapter into #3. We cycle through the series every couple of months. M and E are cleaning the kitchen, and making lunches for camp tomorrow. I turn off the reading light and curl into F’s body. She’s asleep in just a few moments, she rallies for a minute for hugs and kisses from dad, and then is completely out. E hops in the shower.

9:30 pm: M and E are reading together (different books) in E’s bed. I head down to the bathroom for a soak. I almost fall asleep in the tub. When I get out, the laundry on the bed is all folded and put away, and M’s reading in our bed now. I decide to have a small slice of the rhubarb custard pie I made this past weekend. It didn’t set well when I first baked it, but it looks beautiful after living in the fridge for a day or two. It’s delicious. I rarely eat anything after dinner, and I pay for it with wacky dreams all night long. It’s worth it.