6:00 am – Alarm goes off. Sounds like chaos and everything terrible. Hit snooze.
6:09 am – Alarm goes off. Interrupts interesting dream set in my childhood home and involves a large lizard who is actually a puppy but is also Eve but not Eve. Hit snooze.
6:18am – Alarm goes off. HATE. Hit snooze.
6:27am — Alarm goes off. Should probably get up now. Have to pee. Hit snooze.
6:36am – Alarm goes off. Have a vague memory of friend Nia, an elementary school teacher, getting in my face about getting Evie to school on time after she witnessed my usual constantly-running-at-least-ten-minutes-behind performance during Vacation Bible School. “You cannot be tardy!” she declared, her finger wagging and ponytail swinging. Hit snooze.
6:45am – Alarm goes off. Feel like maybe Nia is lurking under my bed, ready to pounce. Get up.
6:46am – Pee forever.
6:50 am – Stumble towards Evie’s room. The first day she was up and already dressed. Subsequent days I found her bundled in blankets, close to coma. Because she’s mine.
6:51 am – Roll in the crash cart, charge up the paddles and hit her with some juice.
6:55 am – Coffee. The world makes sense again.
7:00 – 7:45 am – Make breakfast, pack up book bag, get dressed, find Eve’s shoes, try to do something with Eve’s hair, try to do something with my hair, make beds, pee again, wipe breakfast off Eve’s face, clean up Eve’s attempt to make her own chocolate milk, load dishwasher, forget to charge phone, call Eve’s name 541 times to get her attention, remember to charge phone, fill water bottle for gym, finish coffee, want to die.
7:45 am – Drive to school. Rock it right the hell out to “Daylight” and “Some Nights”.
7:55 am – Wait in car line. Car line sucks. Eve sees several cranes perched on the roof of one of the houses. Do voices for the birds. Eve laughs so hard she gets the hiccups.
8:00 am – Notice that several parents are walking their kids into school. This is not proper procedure. Really want to yell out the car window, “YOU’RE TEACHING YOUR CHILDREN THAT RULES DON’T MATTER!”
8:15 am – Eve peaces out. I want to go with her. This is not proper procedure.
8:30 am – Hit the gym. A lady on the next treadmill asks me if I’ve had laser treatment on my face cause I have some scars, and she wonders if it really works anyway because I do have lines around my mouth. What the hell is wrong with people?
9:00 am — Home. Fully intend to shower. Get caught up in piddling around the house. Vow not to check email, Pinterest or Facebook in order to keep the day moving.
9:10 – Maybe just a little peek.
10:30 am – Sittin’ at the laptop, reading an article I found via Pinterest on why homeschooled kids are better off.
10:35 – Miss Evie. A lot. Everything feels weird. Disjointed. Confused. Legs feel cold. Throw a blanket over them. Realize that being wrapped in a blanket makes me even more pitiful. Make a cry face. Feel lonely. Check Facebook.
11:00 – Shower. The first couple of days I didn’t put on makeup or in any other way prettify myself. I was just going back downstairs to wrap myself in that blanket, the only thing in the world that really understood my pain, and make more cry faces. And no one was gonna see my scarred up, deeply lined face anyway. The third day I realized maybe for the first time what it meant to make myself pretty just for me. That putting on makeup, blowing out my hair, moisturizing and picking out a cute outfit even if no one else was gonna see me that day but me was a gift I could give myself because I deserve it. I don’t deserve to look in the mirror and not like what I see. I deserve to feel good about how I look because I’m important to me. And no one else is gonna do it for me. I kind of really got that for the first time. Then I thought about starting my own talk show. Then I would have hair and makeup people, and all of this wouldn’t matter anyway.
12:00 pm – Hungry. One day I fixed myself a nice piece of broiled salmon and sautéed spinach with butter and garlic. The next day I ate an entire Totino’s Party Pizza all by myself. No one else here, people.
12:30 pm – Look at the couch. I could totally have a nap. No one would know. Just the cats. And they’d nap with me, thereby making them co-conspirators and so not likely to give me up. A nap would be nice. But what if I sleep too long and miss picking Eve up? Oh God! Little Evie, her little ponytail wilted and uniform all sweaty and disheveled, head hung low as she’s forced to wait in the school office while they try in vain to locate her mother, who’s probably a crackhead and is too strung out on the crack to remember to pick her child up at school. I don’t think I’ll nap.
1:00 pm: Register an account as a writer with a web-based company who brokers deals between writers and companies looking for specific content. Get scared. Run away.
1:30 pm: Is it time yet? No. Still have an HOUR AND A HALF. WTF, man!
1:35 pm: Should I nap? Screw it! I’ll nap. Set timer on phone for 60 minutes.
1:36pm – 2:35pm: Watch timer.
2:36pm: Leave to get Eve.
2:50pm: Sit in car line, listen to Dr. Laura and mentally re-decorate the outside of peoples’ houses.
3:15pm: Eve’s in the car, buckled in, water bottle and snack in hand. Radio’s up and we’re outta there. I check off one less day until summer vacation.
**As this blog’s writer, I reserve the right to justify my actions, rationalize my behavior and just generally make an ass of myself any damn time I want. With that in mind, I want to assure all of you that last week was an anomaly. I set aside last week to do next to nothing, ruminate, have feelings about my feelings and feel sorry for myself. I’m being plenty active from here on out. For those of you who are surprised at this caveat, bless your heart. For those of you who were wondering what the hell I plan on doing all day, I am happy to inform you that I have a two-page list, front and back, signed and notarized, containing just what the hell I’m doing all day. I’m carrying it around with me, in case you want a copy.