Wednesday, September 28, 2011

A Good Life.

The alarms sounds.  The bed is so comfy and warm.  A quick peak reveals at there are no 2.75 year olds jumping up and down next to the bed in anticipation of parental attention.  A deep sigh of relief.  The weather has begun to cool and the air in the room is crisp.  Revel in the quiet of the house for just a a few more moments.

Stretch.  Change into workout clothes.  Eat breakfast.  Grab lunch & gym bag.  Kiss Hubby.  Head out the door while the babies are still sleeping all snug in their beds.

The gym is awfully bright at 5:30am.  But pleasantly empty.  The grunting racket ball players are warming up.  No grunting yet.  Soon.  Corner locker 17 is empty.  What a treat!  The Rage Against the Machine pouring out of the weight room is too much this morning.  A couple of wrong turns and the cardio room reveals itself.

Ten minutes on the elliptical.  Two sets of strength building exercises.  Stretch.  Pack up workout clothes.  Shower.  Wash foot.  UGH.  Wash hair.  AH.  Wash Face.  EEUH!  Dress.  UH!  Primp. OMF!  Access.  YES!  Pack up the bag.  Wave hi to the racket ball players.  Back in the car.

Traffic is gloriously absent.  There must be a sweet spot between the early birds and those who punch the clock just in the knick of time.  Drive relaxed.  Acquire coffee drink.  Park in "my" spot.  There's a tree and a bench nearby.  Green grass.  So very calm.

My desk is just how it was left the day before.  Day old coffee cup in need of tossing.  Tests spread everywhere.  Schedule tacked to the wall.  Calendar forecasting the future.  The day divides nicely into three chunks of productive time.  Each chunk is allocated and planned as the day's goals are set.  The rhythm of today begins to reveal itself.

Email.  Trip to the cafe for water.  Chunk 1.  Snack.  Email.  Check Facebook.  Chunk 2.  Email.  Lunch.  Check Blogs.  Escape the desk.  Access the morning's progress.  Email.  Chunk 3.  Snack.  Email.  Check News.  Tie up loose ends.  Make notes for tomorrow's work.  Punch Clock.

Go Home!  Twenty minutes to decompress.  The worries of the day settle to the back of the mind like silt.  Time will come all too soon to stir them in a frenzy.  For now they lie still and organize themselves without interference.  The need to push and strive begins to fade.  The Mom begins to replace the Leader.  Deep breaths.  Thankful thoughts.  Relief.

Pulling into the drive at day care, Bean sees the car.  Her little face lights up.  She breaks into a run the car pulls to the curb.  Huge hug.  Today was a rough day for her.  Too little sleep.  Behaving is hard when sleep is elusive.  Mondays are always hard.  An extra tight hug.  A few extra kisses on the forehead.  The day's trials begin to fade from her little eyes.

Inchie squeals.  She's just caught on to the new arrival.  The squeals can't express all the joy.  She flops onto her belly and lays on the floor as if she's fallen asleep.  This is the ultimate compliment.  The excitement is more than her little body can hope to express.  More hugs.  More kisses.  Quick exchange on the day's proceeding with the day care.  Never quick enough for the girls.

Load the car.  Buckle up.  Bean wants the ABC song.  She asks by singing the whole song as its title.  Inchie has a hate on for her carseat or Bean's singing.  Arrive home.  Unload car.  Put away shoes.  Break for potty time.  Double check gates.

Dinner tonight is a new recipe.  Top Ten Tuna Melts get reborn as Tuna Patties.  Though it's a simple recipe, it takes too long for Bean and Inchie Underfoot.  Food's on the table.  Hubby and Auntie arrive just in time to get it while it's hot.  Maybe a delay in dinner isn't such a bad thing after all.  Everyone cleans their plates.  Tuna Patties are a success!

Bean heads to the bathroom to wash her hands.  She gets sent back when her hands are still dry 3 minutes later.  Things are a little too quiet and pull Mom into the bathroom.  Bean is directed once again to wash her hands.  "BUTICAN'TWASHMYHANDSBECAUSEIDROPPEDSOMETHINGDOWNTHEDRAIN" Huh?  Sobbing little girls who tell the truth when they've done something wrong get Mom's full sympathy and extra hugs and love on top.  Once the sobbing is reduced to hiccups, Bean confesses to Hubby.  "What'd you drop down the drain?"  "I don't know." "What'd it look like?" "Something I dropped down the drain."  *sigh*  Father Daughter Drain Dis-assembly.  One pair of fingernail clippers retrieved and sanitized for many more years of use.

Two Baths.  Two unfolded loads of miniature clothes.  Four different sizes.  Bean puts her underwear and socks away on her own.  Inchie's in bed before her basket is ready.  One more thing for tomorrow night's list.  Read one last story to Bean.  Say Prayers.  Wish Auntie good night.  Tuck in the last little girl standing.  Turn on Peter and the Wolf.  It's been a week since Bean has played chase and escape at bedtime.  Snores can be heard within 5 minutes.  A deep sigh of relief.

Clear dining room table.  Make Lunches.  Check day care log.  Sort mail.  Fold clothes in dryer.  Transfer load from washer to dryer.  Fill washer with tomorrow's load.  Set the timer to get it all going after morning showers are over.  Pick out clothes.  Pack gym bag.

The day is almost over.  Hubby comes out of his office.  How was your day?  What did you do?  Synchronize the schedule.  Plan to keep the house running.  Dream of vacations and new houses and easier days with fewer demands.  Kiss Hubby.  Go to Bed.  Read.  Relax.  Sleep.

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