Monday, Monday

Any day I’m not able to visit my Mom, I feel guilty. Mondays are one of the hardest days for me to make it out to the nursing home. Today, I just didn’t get there. Here’s a rough breakdown of how my day went:

6:30 a.m. – out of bed, make coffee, fix breakfast for myself and my 13-year-old son. Breakfast is cereal for me, toaster waffles and vegetarian bacon for him. Pack son’s lunch. Nag kid out the door by 7:35.

Sit by myself with coffee for a few.

7:45 – shower, dress, realize there’s nothing I can do with my hair. Put it in a pony tail.

8:30 – leave for work. It’s only a short walk, and I don’t have to be there until 9:00, but leaving early is how I fit in my exercise. I add a few blocks to the walk, arriving at work sometime between 8:50 and 8:55.

9:00-Noon – work. Walk home. Prepare lunch for myself and my 16-year-old daughter, who homeschools. Usually, she’s on her own for getting herself fed at lunchtime, but on Monday afternoons, she works for two hours at a physically demanding volunteer job and I like to make sure she’s eaten something appropriate before she goes.

12:45 – Go vacuum shopping. Our *very* old vacuum is not doing the job any more. Meanwhile, we’re having an energy audit done on our home this coming Thursday, with people looking in all the nooks and crannies. Try to be socially responsible by going to vacuum dealer that sells made-in-Missouri vacuums; have a heart attack over prices. Compromise with my conscience by moving on to Home Depot and picking up a Hoover.

1:45 – Arrive back home with vacuum. No time to unpack it from the box. See daughter out the door to her volunteer gig.

2:00 – Leave for bank. My son, who has excellent self-discipline for a kid his age, has hardly spent any allowance or gift money over the past year. Yesterday, he and I counted the cash in his room & I declared it to be too much to have sitting around the house. Go to bank and deposit cash in son’s saving account. From there, head to the junior high, securing an excellent parking spot. 15 minutes reading time before school lets out! I always have a book with me.

3:00 – Arrive back home with son. Make various necessary phone calls.

3:45 – Daughter texts, asking if, instead of her walking home, would I come pick her up and take her to a downtown cafe for a carry out she wants to buy. I agree on condition that she drive. She’s soooo close to having enough practice hours to test for her license.

4:00 Meet daughter and drive downtown. Pick up her item, and come back home, arriving around 4:30.

4:40 – Sit down with son and go over what homework he has. He has auditory processing issues, which make organization a challenge for him, so I usually help him make a list of his homework each day, along with a plan for prioritizing and getting it done. Nag him into getting his homework actually started. By now it’s 5:00.

5:00 – Email husband to ask if he will please, please, please cook dinner tonight. Since he’s a sweetheart, he agrees to. Meanwhile, I make a sandwich for myself.

5:30 – Brush teeth, double-check clothing for anything I may have spilled in the course of the day, realize once again there’s not much I can do with my hair and settle for putting it back into a pony tail.

5:45 – Leave for work, for you see, I work a split shift on Monday.

6:00-9:00 – at work, arriving home around 9:10ish.

9:15 – Realize husband and daughter are gone. Turns out daughter and her dad were out getting in more driving time. Double check that son did his homework. Urge him to quite computer game and get ready for bed. He hears “Eat some apple slices, some cheese *and* some ice cream.” Urge him to eat quickly and Get. To. Bed. “Wait, is that the dryer beeping? Do you have laundry in? Okay, get your clothes from the dryer and then Get.To.Bed.”

9:35- Husband and daughter arrive home. Son is on his way up the stairs with clothes basket. I delay bedtime by launching into story from work involving an office supply tragedy (a delivery of literally thousands of unsharpened pencils that were supposed to have been pre-sharpened pencils.)

9:50 – Son finally on his way to bed. I turn on the computer to compose blog entry.

10:00 –  Go check on son, who is lying down in his room with the light off. Whisper “You asleep already?” He answers, “No.” “Do you have rubber bands on your braces?” “Yes.” “For real?” “No.” “Put in your rubber bands.” I stay to make sure they really go in. Hey, we’re paying nearly $5K for those braces. I want them to work.

10:05 – Come back downstairs, and compose blog entry.

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