A day in the life.

I’m tired.

It’s been a long few weeks of juggling. It’s not a complaint, merely a statement. Much of the fatigue is my own doing, I’ll be the first to admit. I have a hard time saying no and every time I turn around, there’s something being added to the white board calendar in the kitchen.

Last week, I realized that our Wednesdays were kind of ridiculous. As I said to a friend, I organize large-scale events for a living. But ask me to organize my life so that I don’t have to be in 3 places at once? Right. I’m not one to over-program kids. I just tend to program them all on the same day #Fail.

As I drove/biked/walked to one location after another, I mentally chronicled my day. Enjoy (or don’t. This is actually kind of boring).

Boop bee boop bee boop be boop bee doop.. doop… doop… boop bee boop bee boop be boop bee doop…

Recognize that sound? It’s the iPhone signature ring-thingy set to my alarm. It’s 6:15AM. My first though is: “Can I have a nap today?”

The phone is in the kitchen. This is strategic: it will keep beep-booping until I drag myself downstairs.

I go, followed by Kobe (the dog) because there’s a 99.9% chance he will have jumped on the bed at some point while I slept.

Until the kids wake up, I enjoy the quiet house and read emails and the rest of the internet and drink my beloved coffee.

Then, the whirlwind starts. It’s a slow build… but it comes. Usually, Rory comes first – wrapped in a blankie. Anja’s next, having bellowed from bed asking for permission to get up. Will is always last on  school days – he’ll need some prodding to join the fray.

Breakfast. Backpacks. Review homework. Hunt for lost socks. Repeat myself a million times over to get this or that and then, 2/3 of the off spring are out the door to walk to school. I check my watch. It’s 8:15, I have a bit of a breather before the little one goes to science. We go for a dog walk – with fake baby and little pink stroller. Our pace is not quick. Worms are collected, snails herded to the safety of the side of the trail.

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We get home in time to pack snacks and go to science.

Sidebar: Anja has not stopped talking since she got up. At all. It’s like a running, completely irrelevant commentary on our day.

She goes to science in the same building as the gym so I can squeeze in those treadmill intervals I’ve been dreading.

Another sidebar: I got into run gear when I got up. Otherwise, it’s just too easy to skip. Unless I’ve sweated through everything, there’s a solid chance I’ll be peeling those same clothes off at bedtime. Gross, right?! Welcome to my real life. Take it or leave it.

I get the run done with just enough time to have a powwow with my physio who happens to be there at the same time. I’ll consider that a two-for-one because even those 5 minutes make a difference. She always makes time for me and is supremely awesome.

Collect Anja, win the argument stating that I need a shower before our errands. We go home, I shower, she – of course, keeps me company. Heaven forbid I leave her side. She continues her monologue.

I check my watch. It’s 11:20. Errands and a quick lunch stop at the bakery ensue. We take the dog – today, errands on the bike must double as his walk.

We’re home by 1. I have a list as long as my arm of work to do. Dilemma: what to do with the little one? Arts ‘n craps, for now (monologuing the whole way). I’m having a hard time concentrating after 45m and anyway, she spills food colouring everywhere, so I give up and hand her the iPad. Check the calendar to remind myself how many days before Jay returns from Asia.

What’s that sound? Oh, right. QUIET.

Text message. Zumba cancelled. Can Anja come Friday instead of this afternoon? Yes! Win! That removes one of my 3 locations. Make mental note about Friday, then remember that mental notes are useless to me – white board it is.

I check the time. 2PM. I have 1 hour before we’re off again; I power through some work, diligently avoiding the piles of laundry, the messy playroom and the dishes. Also, sad dog eyes.

We’re off again. Meet Will to pick him up from dodgeball, throw him a snack and send him to soccer. High five Rory who’s at science. We’ll be back for you, buddy (mental note: don’t forget Rory).

Shit. Dinner. I check the time: 4:45PM. Mile One, my non-negotiable, go-to best-ever dinner option on Wednesdays is closed for 2 weeks for their (very well deserved) spring break. Decide to try to recreate their burgers at home. Whip to grocery store. Least favourite place.

I check the time. 5:02PM.  Oops, I’m late to get Rory. Pick him up with apologies. He doesn’t seem to care. Dodged that bullet.

Home by 5:30PM. Wonder how people who live in big cities with full-time jobs and deal with traffic do this. At least most of my commuting is by bike or foot. I bow to you. Truly.

Throw together dinner (burgers are ok but the house smells like bacon, so… win?), break up fights, send kids to trampoline in what appears to be a huge windstorm. Oh well. They likely won’t get blown away. I hope.

Will’s dropped off by friends (thank you – it really does take a village otherwise I’d burn dinner even more quickly than usual) and we have a quick dinner, reciting “Apples and Onions” and reviewing our day. Kids have showers (cue: FIGHT) and we get ready to watch “Modern Family”, my one nod to TV for them during the week; I don’t really care if it’s age appropriate or not, we like it. And I barely have to explain gay marriage. Another win.

We sink into couches, and sure enough, minutes in, the doorbell rings. Neighbours want to play. It’s like a cavalcade down the stairs.

Sidebar: Anja: “Go without me! I’ll meet you there! I’m just getting underwear!” It sounds a lot like “Save Yourselves!”

I’d say it’s quiet in the house as they play with friends in the yard, but it’s just as loud when there are 8 kids on a tramp 10 feet away.

While they are outside, I do my core stabilization exercises. And have a glass of wine. At the same time. How’s that for stable?

8 o’clock comes, the gang disperses, Modern Family gets watched, kids finally go to bed. And you know what?

So do I.

I think I’ve found the missing link in my training. How do you spell “Recovery”?

 

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Author: Christine Cogger

I am not a writer. I like my kids, coffee, running around and reading about you. I live in the most incredible part of the world and am lucky enough to live some pretty great adventures.

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