Day 15: Bullet Point

I was going to start this out by saying that a mother’s life is not dull, but really any parents life is not dull, assuming that they are an active part of their childs life. Regardless of status – single parent, a parent with a partner, step parent, grandparent . . . Kids keep you on your toes, they keep you moving. I often write of my busy, crazy, hectic schedule. I hear a lot of, “how do you do it?” Well, because. Because I love my kids and this is our life and this is what I do.

When day fifteen came up, I didn’t quite grasp the enormity of what the post would entail. I guess I didn’t even realize what my day consisted of.

Day Fifteen: Bullet Point your day.

So here we go. A day in the life.

• 1230am – still staring at the clock after laying down two hours prior.
• 1am – still staring at the clock
• 4am – feel cold, realize I have no blankets because a little hooligan bedhog has invaded my bed. Yank them away with no mercy and then fix them like a good mom so we’re both covered.
• 530am – get peed on by little hooligan bedhog (not a regular occurrence anymore but of course it happened today.) and give up because my alarm is set for 545am anyway. Help him change his clothes and back into bed, and strip my bed, angrily throwing the bedding I just washed the day before down the basement stairs. It knocks over a box of nails, a hammer, and a broom. Did I mention it’s Monday and it’s off to a magnificent start?
• 545am- alarm goes off while the shit show is progressing. My Google assistant tells me the Google weather (which I disregard because it’s usually wrong) and my appointments for the day, which made me realize I had Chase’s appointments confused – eye doc today, allergist Thursday. I almost drove to Maumee instead of Sylvania. Thank God I put that reminder on there.
• 550am – make a big glass of ice water and go back to my room. Commence with lighting an orange scented candle (the scent of orange wakes you up if you didn’t know.) and force myself into fifteen minutes of yoga. I love yoga, but I haven’t made it a priority this summer and it’s time to get back in the swing of things.
• 605am – finish yoga, check the real weather, read my horoscope just for giggles and check my email.
• 610am – make blessed coffee, take my vitamins and allergy meds. Choose my clothes for the day.
• 617am – shower time, while listening to the weekly rock countdown on slacker radio, skipping the first handful of songs because they’re just not my cup of tea. Settle on a heavy one with nice vocals, but since it was before I was awake I don’t remember who sang it.
• 635am- take my coffee outside and smoke a cigarette. Check my bank account, Facebook and email again. Stare in awe at my gargantuan sunflowers.

• 647am – straighten my hair, do my makeup.
• 705am – one more cigarette before I wake the beast. I’m tired as hell.
• 710am – pull the hooligan out of bed. Get clothes out of his dresser. Get him a glass of water and tell him to get dressed.
• 715am – go down and throw my sheets in the laundry, pick up all the shit I knocked down the stairs while I’m at it.
• 720am – let the dog out, check to see if the garbage has been picked up from the curb. Realize Matt didn’t put the cans close enough to the road and rearrange them, getting my feet and hands wet from last night’s storm in the process. Now I feel gross.
• 730am – wash my hands, dry my feet pour some coldbrew coffee in a cup. Wander around turning off lights and picking up the kitchen mumbling about my lazy teenager who left a mess from last night for me.
• 740am – attempt to leave the house but Chase needs to use the bathroom. And a glass of orange juice. And a popsicle. Realize he didn’t brush his teeth and make that happen.
• 746am – pull out, head to Sylvania.
• 810am – pull into opthalmologist office just in time. Check in.
• 820am – talk Chase into letting the nice nurse put the drops in his eyes to dialate them.
• 835am – leave opthalmologist office with relief that Chase still doesn’t need the glasses he wore in preschool for eye crossing. Bust ass across town while keeping in mind my child is in the car and the time clock can wait and the asshole in front of me isn’t worth getting in trouble or getting my child hurt.
• 855am – pull in, get Matt up for Chase, refill my coffee, jump in my car. No regard for speed limits or assholes feelings now, hit sixty in a 35 on my way to work.
• 912am – pull into work and now the real shit show begins.
• I had originally bullet pointed every minute of my work day, but realized that it was a little too boring and a little to detailed for those not in property management. I spent nine hours dealing with an incessantly ringing telephone, managing maintenance and contractors, showing apartments, answering emails and dealing with work orders and resident complaints. I got to work 12 minutes late and stayed twenty minutes over tying up loose ends before I left for three days off.
• 620pm – hop in Scarlett and bust ass home, cursing slow drivers the entire way.
• 634pm – run into the house, grab Chase’s backpack and herd him out of the house for 2nd grade open house.
• 640pm – gaze in wonder at the bouncy houses set up at the school. Who’s bright fucking idea was THAT?! Try to find a parking spot. It started at six and I’m never late to these things and this is why. End up parking two streets over and walking to the school with an antsy 7 year old wanting to go play. Debating how I can get out of going to hellacious bouncy house land.
• 650am – find Chase’s classroom. Do the new paperwork, set up his supplies, tour the room and meet the teacher. Express concern about his migraines and am met with a teacher who gets them herself and understands. Praise the higher powers.
• 715pm – con Chase into not going to play in the bouncy houses by offering McDonald’s. I feel like shit about it. Substituting fast food for playing outside, mom of the year here. I just couldn’t do it, though.
• 730pm – shoot Sophia a pissed off text about the shit show day while waiting in line for our food. Forget to order myself fries and chalk it up as a loss.
• 740pm – home. Eat.
• 755pm – remember the scripts I called in during the day. Go and pick them up.
• 815pm – change my clothes, open an angry orchard and phone a friend. Talk for about fifteen minutes.
• 830pm – herd Chase into the bathtub. Go through my mail. Clean up the kitchen while mumbling about lazy kids. Text Chase’s aunt about upcoming after school arrangements.
• 9pm – Chase out of the tub. Make my bed with my clean sheets that grandma finished washing for me, clean up the bathroom. Message a couple friends about upcoming concerts.
• 915pm – give Chase his allergy medicine. Wonder how I pulled today off. Get him his popsicle and get him in bed.
• 930pm – sit down with a new Smirnoff flavor and begin writing this while still messaging a friend about Friday nights Saliva show and the upcoming Shinedown show. This will make the third time in a year I’ve seen Shinedown, second for Saliva, and I couldn’t be happier.
• 1045pm – realize my day isn’t over and decide to put down my phone.
• 1055pm- shower number two, with lavender scent to calm my ass down.
• 1115pm – sit down to edit what I’ve written so far.
• 1155pm – finally turn out the lights.

This was written prior to the first day of school. Add in – school drop off and lunch packing, football and student council, homework and actually making dinner. . . I have help. And it’s a good damn thing. I cannot be two places at once. I cannot be everything to everyone. As soon as I made that realization my life got a little easier. What made it even easier? Accepting that I am not perfect. Accepting that I am going to fuck up and make less than stellar decisions – like substituting McDonald’s for a bouncy house because I was so physically and mentally drained that I couldn’t socialize and I couldn’t deal with everything going to visit the bouncy houses meant – making small talk with other parents, and the inevitable fight with Chase when it came time to leave. On four hours of sleep, after a clusterfuck of a day. I love my kids and I wouldn’t change this life for anything. But when I say I’m tired, I’m serious. When I say I don’t have the energy to socialize, that’s legit. This is just one day of many, and I know it’s not out of the norm for most parents, of any kind. So do whatever it is that keeps you going, no matter how silly it may seem (for example, my little bits of aromatherapy or yoga) and keeps you going. And just know I believe in you.