This was my yesterday:
3:00am — Teddy wakes up, due either to the recent time change or the molars that haven’t quite burst through his gums (but they have created blood blisters of a lovely purple hue, so that’s something). He is bottled and changed and goes back to sleep.
3:33am — The cat wakes me up because he’s hungry (he’s always hungry) and there’s no cat food so he gets two slices of turkey in his bowl. This is his third life.
4:00am — Alarm goes off. Snooze.
4:09am — Alarm goes off again, for real this time. I get up, ice my coffee and write 577 words for NaNoWriMo, mostly about boiled peanuts and a town that’s burning down.
6:55am — I drop the two youngest kids off at daycare. I wave to the crossing guard outside my daughter’s school. We’ve never actually spoken, but I’d like for his name to be Stan.
8:45-9:33am — Period 2. Honors English II. We write our own Analects for surviving high school, Confucius-style.
9:36-10:24am — Period 3. Sometimes this is my planning period. Sometimes it’s the period I try to comfort a seventeen-year-old boy who is haunted, tormented, by memories of his father’s death. I know too well what his eyes look like when he cries, and that makes my heart hurt. For him.
10:43 — 11:30am — Period 4. AP English Literature. We analyze The Second Coming. We beat it to a pulp, until that rough beast slouches toward Bethlehem.
11:34am — 12:21pm — Period 5. Honors English IV. We pretend to be Macbeth, and reflect on our own bloodthirsty madness. Them, accompanied by their synchronized fists pounding on their desks: MacBETH! MacBETH! MacBETH! BeWAAAAARRRRE MacDUFF!
12:21– 12:46pm — Lunch Bunch. Yes, every day I eat lunch with a number of teenage boys. They burp a lot. Among other things.
1:41 — 2:28pm — Seventh Period. I cover sophomore geometry for another teacher who has an appointment. In the last few minutes of class, a girl has a seizure at the front of the classroom. I kneel on the floor, not really knowing what I’m supposed to do. I stroke her hair and wait for her eyelids to stop fluttering.
2:30 — 4:00pm — After school. I grade three sets of vocab quizzes while a student makes up a test. I eat a sandwich that a student left for me. It came with its own container of honey-mustard dipping sauce.
4:30pm — I pick up my children from daycare. We rock out to One More Night on the ride home.
6:15pm — I notice my husband sitting across the room from me. We wave.
6:30-8:45pm — Bath #1. Bottle. Crib. First-grade homework. Accelerated Reader. Twice. Or three times. Bath #2. Two bedtime stories. Bed. I try to sneak away when I think the littler one is asleep, but the eyes open. I’m caught. Her: Why aren’t you rubbing my back?
8:45pm and Beyond! — I pull the least-wrinkled school uniform from the sky-high pile on top of the dryer (the ones on top of the dryer are clean; the ones on top of the washer are not). The PTO wants to know if I’m coming to the Board meeting Tuesday night. I’d like a beer, but then, I’d also like a bed.
*Thank you to my writer-friend, Olivia O’Bryon, for encouraging a post like this.