Friday Morning Wood

Posted by Wood | Thursday, April 12, 2007 | ,

I haven't been writing much around here lately, and there isn't a very interesting reason for it. I'm busy, I work, and I miss my kid even though I like my job.

Over a year ago, I wrote a post about twenty-four of my SAHM hours. There have been a lot of changes around here in the last year, not the least of which is that if I could manage to go running, one sportsbra would be more than sufficient. I'd probably do just as well without. In honor of all the changes, here's what Thursday was like:

6:08: Wake up briefly, wonder why our room is so hot and why our thermostat seems to hate us. Consider going downstairs to turn off the heat, but decide against it. Calculate number of minutes until cell phone alarm goes off -- it's 42.

6:50: Alarm goes off and I begin the vicious snooze cycle. Remember this new clock I saw yesterday, note that I should order one before hitting snooze again.

7:10: Hear Juniper calling for me. Drag ass out of bed, and silently curse because she wasn't supposed to wake up for another hour, and now this means that I'll be late to work, and I really shouldn't be late today. But I also smile because this means that I'll get to spend at least an hour with her before I leave.

7:11: I find Juniper sitting up in her bed with her legs in a butterfly position; she looks up at me and says: "Like gymnastics!" I sit on her bed, pull her footie-pajama-clad body into my lap, and she looks up at me and says: "What does Juney smell like?" I stick my nose into her neck and tell her she smells like sugar and then ask her what I smell like. She sniffs the air loudly and says: "Mama smells like kisses." I catch my breath, replay in my head the precise way her voice said that, and understand in an instant that this moment will be the highlight of my day.

7:15: Take Juniper downstairs for breakfast. She asks for yogurt and frozen blueberries, she gets it. Make coffee. Get the paper. Straighten up the kitchen.

7:30: Search for our shoes, coats, hats and the dog's collar and leash. Take the dog for a quick walk. He poops. I pick it up. Juniper talks about it.

7:50: Finally start getting ready for work. It takes a long time because Juniper wants her diaper off, then her pajamas back on, then a book.

8:15: Go in the bedroom and wake up Dutch, 5 minutes after I was supposed to leave. Encourage Juniper to call him "sleepyhead" when she greets him. Throw on a suit. Say goodbye. Go downstairs.

8:21: Go back upstairs to say goodbye again and get another kiss. Leave once and for all.

8:42: Arrive at work twelve minutes late. Go into my office to change out of my walking shoes and into heels. Open my drawer to find 3 pairs of black pumps, but I'm wearing a brown suit. Damn it. Put on the black shoes.

8:45 -- 1:00: Work.

1:00: Eat lunch in the office with boss and co-worker.

1:25: Talk to Dutch. He went to Trader Joe's, and it was a nightmare; something about Juniper pooping in the middle of it and no diapers to change her but she was so stinky he just sat her on the employee bathroom sink and hosed her down.

1:30 -- 5:22: Work.

5:23: Change into my regular clothes and cram my suit into my bag. Walk to the YMCA to meet Dutch and Juniper. Call my mom on the way over and tell her the story about Juniper saying that I smell like kisses. Note that my mom responds with the appropriate "awwwww" and is the only person other than Dutch who doesn't find it cheesy at all.

5:33: Arrive at the Y and sit with Juniper while she eats a snack and Dutch works out. Take her to the bathroom to pee. Redo her ponytails at least 3 times. Ask myself why I do that, consider possibility of control issue.

6:00 -- 7:00: Teach gymnastics class to six and seven year-olds while Juniper tries unsuccessfully to follow along or at the very least stay out of the way. Tell the little girls to stop talking so much. Note how six and seven year-olds never, ever stop talking even when they are upside down.

7:02 -7:10: Fold up the mats. Clean up the detritus from the class: hair clips, hair beads, and abandoned socks. Find Dutch and head home.

7:25-- 8:10: Dinner, bath.

8:10: Brush Juniper's teeth. Put some Badger Balm on a q-tip and stick it in her nose in the hopes that it'll stop her from getting bloody noses at night. Marvel at how she doesn't scream or bat my hand away, just insists that after I do it she gets a chance to do it herself. Hand her the q-tip and the balm and let her put more in each nostril.

8:15: Go into Dutch's office, he's on the computer. Juniper shuffles and dances around asking for "one last song." Hold her and dance for three.

8:23: Take her into her room, where she chooses books to read. One has a library card from the Wyandotte Library in it. The other has crayon marks from other children all over it. My husband can't pass up a book for ten cents, even if it is about a poorly-drawn pig wearing sunglasses who wants to paint her fence purple and relies on a dog named Danny who tries to paint it green and orange first.

8:30: Say goodnight. Comply with Juniper's demand that I tell her a story about going to the Y and doing gymnastics. And eating candy.

8:40: Eat take-out sushi with Dutch for the first time in months. We talk about San Francisco and how we used to get sushi every Friday night from the family on the corner. We vow to come up with a new Friday night tradition once it is more than a few degrees above freezing around here.

9:00: The Last Samurai is on. Note how even among a full cast of Japanese actors, Tom Cruise still looks so small. Dutch admits to me that the way samurai and ninjas fight kind of makes him nervous. "How do they know where the sword is coming from like that?" he asks.

9:40: Come to the office to write this post. Listen to Dutch ranting at the television downstairs: "Why does the Pope dress like that? Does the Pope ever get to wear pants?"

10:55: Finish this post. Head down to couch to fall asleep to the sound of Jon Stewart's voice.