"Mom. Mom. Mom."
"I had a bad dream."
Sit up so Jackson can squeeze in between me and Jack. Quickly reaccustom myself to sleeping while teetering on a two-inch slice of mattress.
Clock radio begins playing some blowsy string orchestra piece. Quickly shut off alarm, check breathing of bedmates with hope that they are still asleep. Success.
Everyone on the highway has had way more coffee than me at this point. What's the hurry, people? Jesus.
Open the door into a warm yoga studio. Robyn is already there, and another guy whose name I can never remember. Jim? Tim? He has a British accent, is all I know about him. He smiles and nods and I unroll my mat next to his. A full practice takes me two hours, but today I've only got until 7:00. I do what I can to keep my body from slowly, painfully contracting into a dry husk of withered flesh. Ask me in 50 years if it worked.
People have trickled in and the room is almost full now. I am winding things up and don't worry, beautiful uptight woman across from me, your updog is truly spectacular. You're twenty years younger than me, it's no contest. Do you want to win yoga? You win. Have a nice day.
Stop at market for milk. Oh, how about a raspberry scone, I've already worked it off, right?
Give milk to Jack for Jackson's breakfast. Decide to take dogs for a quick walk on the beach so they don't lose their minds being stuck inside all day.
God, one of these days Cookie is just going to wash out to sea. Have a nice trip to Australia! Quit drinking saltwater, you're just going to barf it all back up, Jesus.
Wave to Jack and Jackson, driving off to school. My back seat is covered with sand. Should I give the dogs baths now or should I realize that no one made Jackson's lunch? And also realize that I have a root canal in an hour? I didn't need a shower anyway.
Get to Jackson's school with a lunch bag full of Jell-O, Cheezits, a peanut butter sandwich made with the bread he hates, and other ridiculous foods from our cupboard, but I can't give it to him because it's time for assembly and everybody's saying the pledge of allegiance. Ask a fellow mother to give Jackson his lunch and run back to the car.
Realize I haven't followed up with woman I contacted through Craigslist to buy her extra ticket for John McLaughlin Friday night. Thank God for my iPhone (again), find her number in an e-mail, and tell her that if all goes well I'll pick up the ticket around 10:30.
"That's very rare! Less than 1% of the population have molars with four roots!"
Find an ATM and call the ticket woman to apologize and tell her I'm on my way.
Holy shit, I'm almost out of gas.
I make it home. I have a half hour to eat a proper (not scone-based) breakfast/lunch, take a shower, figure out what to wear, and get out the door to work. But wait! Our mortgage payment was due yesterday! I have to go to the bank and pay it directly.
God, I hate this bank. They're so fucking cheerful.
Park my car in the lot and run to the office.
1:00 p.m.-5:30 p.m.
Work, work, work, work, work.
Call Jack. What do you want for dinner? Jack has a homeowner's association meeting at 6:30, so Jackson and I are on our own. I have 50 minutes to get to the store and OH MY GOD I NEED GAS.
WTF is up with this traffic, it's never this bad. Oh, hello, people standing mortified but unhurt by the side of the road while tow trucks disentangle your three-car pileup! We didn't need that lane anyway. Hope your insurance company doesn't drop you!
I am that lady in work clothes buying frozen pizza and a bottle of wine, yes. Do you want to step outside? I DIDN'T THINK SO.
"I'm sorry, I had to stop at the gas station, I think I was running on fumes. If you have to get to your meeting go ahead, Jackson will be fine for five minutes by himself."
"Are you pumping? Right now?"
"Yes, I'm PUMPING."
"This is the closest we'll get to having sex today, isn't it?"
Preheat oven. Open wine. The dogs look hungry. Do the dogs look hungry?
"Jackson, do you know if anyone fed the dogs?"
"No, you don't know?"
Fall into a hole of pizza, wine, Bloglines, and Facebook. Is that a -- yes, that IS a picture of Patrick's underpants.
"Yeah, so you should probably get ready for bed now."
But, you know, some horrible magician's award show is on.
Okay! One more page of Diary of a Wimpy Kid and then you HAVE to go to sleep.
"Tell me a story about you when you were a kid."
Wake up, get out of Jackson's bed, find night guard, get in bed with Jack. Get out of bed because yes, the front door WAS unlocked, go back to bed.