My alarm goes off at 6:00 every morning, which for some reason sounds excruciatingly early. I stumble out of bed around 6:15, shuffle into the bathroom, wash my face, and try to put my contacts in without getting a fistful of fur in my eye, since the cat decides that this is the best time to jump on the counter and rub all up on me.
I shuffle into the kitchen, shuffle into the girls’ room (I do a lot of shuffling in the pre-dawn hour) and attempt to wake them up. Rachel is super cuddly, but eventually rolls out of bed. Claire is cranky and whiney, but eventually lets me drag her out. We do our best to leave Zoe alone, since she needs her sleep, and wrangling 2 kids is easier than 3 (shocker), but she gets super pissed if she misses out on breakfast with her sisters and often forces herself to wake up and join us.
From the time they are up, it’s a whirlwind of eating breakfast, making lunches, packing snacks, brushing teeth, feeding the cats, getting dressed, brushing teeth, letting the dog out, getting socks on, BRUSH YOUR TEETH, SHOES! SHOES! SHOES! Like, how does one forget to put on the left sock?
Somewhere in there, I manage to get dressed myself. Walk to school, head out for a run (maybe), come home, make coffee and breakfast, shower (maybe?), take Zoe to school, come home, work work work, head out to start the pickup process. Come home, snacks, folders, all of the dishes I neglected throughout the morning, more coffee, clearing space on the table for LEGOs or more drawings or bookmaking, and for the love of cheese fries, please hang up your backpack before I trip over it again.
Coffee or no coffee, once the late afternoon rolls around, I am beat and want nothing more than to flop on the couch, but then it’s what’s for dinner? then panicking about dinner and then the actual making of the dinner. Then it’s eat your dinner, sit on your bottom, and no, sour cream is not an acceptable side dish.
Baths (maybe), brushing teeth, dry yourself off, PJs, books, lullabies, lights out. I finally flop on the couch and listen to the giggles and the continued craziness that comes with three girls sharing the same room and wonder when will this not be chaotic? Where are the slow-moving evenings I remember as a kid, where there were no drill sergeants, where I would jump into my dad’s lap as he watched TV and breathed into his face so he could smell that I brushed my teeth?
I’m exhausted. During these days there’s no time for writing, or if there’s time, there are no words or inclination. I’ve opened up countless drafts, only to stare at the white space of doom. I can’t seem to find time to vacuum, fold the laundry, contact that person about that thing, clean the bathrooms, but in reality, when there is time, I have to choose between doing those things or taking a much needed break. I feel the constant push and pull of the “need tos” and the “want tos” and wonder how everyone else balances it all out, how they fit life into their life.
In the evenings I start dreaming of going to bed with my book at 9pm. I want to write. I need to straighten up that dining room table. I should do those strength exercises I put off earlier. But all I really want to do is dial up some Netflix and binge watch Friday Night Lights, because let’s face it – that’s the only way this laundry is going to get folded.