5:00 a.m. – Alarm goes off. I roll over and fumble for the snooze button as a voice in my head says shit.
5:10 a.m. – Snooze is over. Damn it. I press it once more just in case I fall asleep again.
5:15 a.m. – Finally drag my tired ass out of bed and stumble into my new bathroom. Step on the scales. Fuck. I have to stop eating.
5:20 a.m. – Turn on the shower to warm up the water and check my cell phone for emails, just in case Prince Charming sent me a note during my dreams. I tell myself no one is ever going to date me again because I’m too fat, but maybe I’d rather be fat than have to deal with a man ever again. I disrobe and try to find something I like in the huge 3-way mirror. Not much. I check my hair in the mirror to see which shampoo I should use today, then jump in.
I let the hot water run all over me, and I go through the morning motions like a robot – shampoo, conditioner, face wash, body wash… and all the while I’m thinking about strange things, like how we should create a blog for our software product at work and wondering if my dog is going to poop on my rug today.
5:30 a.m. – Wander down the hall and wake up daughter number two. Daughter number one is up and moving.
5:31 a.m. – Start a load of laundry.
5:32 a.m. – Skin care… make up… hair… robe…
5:50 a.m. – Wander back downstairs to chat with daughter number one and straighten up any messes from last night.
6:05 a.m. – See off daughter number one.
6:06 a.m. – Try to find a project I can accomplish in 19 minutes or surf the web.
6:25 a.m. – See off daughter number two. With any luck, she doesn’t give me an evil teenage-daughter glare about something.
6:26 a.m. – Get dressed.
6:30 a.m. – Wake up son (repeat 100 times).
7:15 a.m. – Start threatening son.
7:16 a.m. – Stand firm in my resolution to make my son responsible for himself and stop calling him.
7:17 a.m. – Fuck the resolution and call my son again, physically dragging him out of bed and placing him in front of the toilet, if necessary.
7:18 a.m. – Prepare breakfast for myself and for my son. Pack his lunch or get his lunch money. Pack my lunch. A round of vitamins for everyone… argue with him for 30 minutes about putting on his shoes.
8:00 a.m. – Take dog out, if he’s been able to wait this long. If not, clean up poop from outside my closet door and curse.
8:05 a.m. – Walk son to bus stop. Worry that he won’t look for cars when it’s time to let him do it himself.
8:30 a.m. – Leave for work in a frazzle and sit in stop-and-go traffic, wondering how in the hell I’m going to keep this up.
9:30 a.m. – Fly into work, wonder what I’ve missed, and check my calendar for the day. I think my boss must surely think I’m a slacker – in late, out early. Watch my office mate work the NY Times crossword and then watch him take a two-hour lunch for a flying lesson. Work, work, work.
4:00 p.m. – Leave office and miss most of the evening traffic.
4:50 p.m. – Fly in the door and head straight for my computer, where I log in remotely to my work desktop and work until 5:30.
5:00 p.m. – Respond to emails and analyze data while I listen to the kids talk about school and try to heat something up for dinner.
5:30 p.m. – Work is done. Choke down dinner in 10 minutes.
5:40 p.m. – Take daughter number two to cheer practice at location number one. Take son to football practice at location number two.
6:00 p.m. – Grocery.
7:30 p.m. – Put groceries away.
7:40 p.m. – Head back to two locations to pick up children, taking daughter number one along.
8:00 p.m. – Head out to the girls’ meeting 25 minutes out of town.
10:00 p.m. – Crash at home.
10:30 p.m. – Turn off lights and wonder what in the hell I’m doing. I tell myself I’ll do better tomorrow – that I just need to get organized.
What in the hell am I doing?