That’s not me.
I know, shocker right?
I’m not that thin, hell if I can get my hair to grow back that long, and it’s definitely not that sleek.
And seriously, heels while doing a hundred different things at once. Fuck that shit.
Oh…and I don’t iron.
I’m the cook, cleaner, errand runner, babysitter, mom, grandmother, bill payer, knower of where the scissors are, and the keeper of the all things that hold this household together. And to be fair, my husband is a big help on a few of those fronts.
And to escape all of the things my life needs me to be, I hide behind my computer screen in my leggings and sweaters, coffee to my right, scribbled notes to my left, writing happily ever after that is light on all of the above lady-boner killers that come with real life.
My day starts at 7 a.m. when my husband gets up and gets in the shower. My lay there in bed, lazy as fuck, wishing I could just go back to sleep, my phone coming off sleep mode and buzzing next to me. God, how I wish I had never started bringing that thing to bed. Seriously, I only recently started doing it and now I can say goodbye to all peace.
He comes out at about 7:10, my cue to pull my blankets over my head because, without fail, he’s going to bend over to dig through a laundry basket full of clean clothes for underwear with no concern about whether or not his chocolate Cheerio is winking or his balls are waving at me.
That’s romance in the real world folks!
And yes, we’re those people who have clean clothes in at least one basket at any given time because we’re balls-to-the-wall busy and neither of us has the time we need in order to do all the things.
He goes down to grind the coffee beans and get the coffee going while I muddle through brushing my teeth, putting in my contacts, taming my hair, and getting dressed. By the time I make it down, he’s poured a huge cup for me in the biggest mug I’ve got.
Most mornings I head right for my office. I go through emails, burn some brain cells scrolling the book of face, and scan the news…which BTW is never good these days. And it kills my creativity if I linger too long in the shit.
Since my computer is always on, I have multiple projects open already from the night before. Too many projects. Stuff for me, other things because I’m not good at saying no. And I get to work.
My life is a series of open tabs all screaming for my attention!
Around 8:30…I hear my granddaughter running around the kitchen so I go down to grab some food and love on her. Her latest thing is throwing her hands in the air and screaming, “Wooo!” So, yeah, that’s what I do the minute I hit the hardwood floor. Monday through Thursday I babysit her at various times during the day while Bronwyn goes to class. We eat Cheerios and baby goldfish, drink water, and sing and dance with Baby First TV.
Ask me how many versions of Baby Shark I know? LOL
I write in spurts while working other projects in. It used to be that I wrote best first thing in the morning, then I was better at night. I seem to have shifted back and my best words come out in the morning.
I have a backlist to republish and I usually have one of those projects going at all times. It’s pressure, but it’s also nice to have a lot of things going so when I need a break from one, I can switch off. That’s why I also always have my Photoshop open. Working on cover art gets me motivated and gives me a break to be creative in a different way.
On any given day, my time is interrupted with trips to the grocery store and frequent visits to the allergy doctor, because I’m living the glamorous life y’all!
Some afternoons I take a nap. Yup, I’m selfish and take care of me for a few minutes. If I don’t, my eyes don’t hold up for the multiple hours in front of the screen.
I return to my office after, with a fresh cup of coffee, and Dr. Phil. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, but I need the reassurance that other’s have more fucked up families than I do…and that’s a story for a whole other blog topic. And every time he says, “When we come back, I’m going to put some verbs in my sentences” I want to strangle him.
At 3:45 p.m. I’m walking out on Phil before he can get to home plate so I can watch that squealing bucket of awesome while her mother gets ready for work.
At 4 p.m. I hear the thump of Jim’s feet coming up from his basement office to take over the babysitting so I can squeeze in one more hour of work before I have to start worrying about dinner. Yes, that’s right, he’s worked a full day and now he’s taking over with the baby until her head hits the pillow. So seriously, if the laundry doesn’t get folded (something he does), I don’t care.
The three of us eat together, usually something I’ve pulled off of Pinterest. I do a mean cashew chicken! I do dishes, because let’s face it, I’m faster at cleanup, and then I hightail it to the bathtub where I soak for at least and hour. When deadlines are breathing down my neck, I take a shower instead.
After bath time, I’m back in this office until bedtime…sometimes eleven. Sometimes later. With the worst of my deadlines, I’ve been up as late as 6 a.m. the next morning.
There’s a laundry list of non surprise things that happen on any given day. Phone calls and texts with Jen, calls from my middle child, my wondering if my oldest is ever going to call, lol. People knocking on our door which I have to tell you, usually makes me hide.
And then there’s the serious life shit. Mom getting sick and hopping on a plane to take care of her for eight days. A kid ending up in the hospital. Family evacuating for hurricanes. You name it, we all have it.
Like you, life lobs the unexpected at me at a pace that threatens to bury me at times. And I take the hits. I bitch about it. I vent. And when I’m done, I put one foot in front of the other and get shit done.
And I work seven days a week. I used to be great about getting away on my own. At least once a week I would take an afternoon to walk, get fresh air, explore the area around me. I need to get back to that.
And you know what this all showed me? My day is a long line of interruptions. I don’t get to just worry about my eating and drinking schedule. The house does not stay picked up because others are not nearly as careful about cleaning up after themselves as I am. I, despite having grown children, have to worry about everyone else’s needs. I have to dance around everyone else’s schedule.
So the one thing that is going on my list and is never negotiable…taking better care of me!