My alarm goes off at 5:30am. I stumble my way into the bathroom where I spend 15 minutes forcing my hair to behave (also known as “The Story of My Life”).
I get dressed and brush my teeth. Normally I don’t brush my teeth before eating but it’s so early the fewer amount of times I have to lurk around upstairs in the dark the less likely I am to wake my still sleeping children.
I microwave a frozen sausage, egg and cheese breakfast sandwich to take with me in the car because I didn’t leave enough time to eat breakfast at home and I’m actually hungry which is rarely the case for me in the mornings.
I get in my car at 6:15am which feels like the middle of the night. It’s so dark outside. At least it’s not frosty yet.
I drive a surprisingly traffic-less, stress-free drive to work arriving in record time, 25 minutes early. I pay $12 for parking but at least I’m close to the building and it’s supposed to rain later so, yeah me!
At 6:50 I sit at my desk, open my emails and begin shuffling papers around my desk.
I get a call from Derek who is on drop-off duty these days, wondering what to make for the girls’ lunch. I tell him I prepared it all last night and put it in the fridge. All he needs to do is put it and some napkins in their lunch boxes and fill up some water bottles. He is audibly relieved. Three ornery children early in the morning is hard enough. Throwing lunch making duties on top of it is just icing on the cake. I would know.
I have to call Derek back 30 minutes later to remind him today is picture day for Ingrid and Elodie and to make sure their hair is brushed nicely. He reported that Ingrid wouldn’t let him touch her’s and that he hoped Elodie’s teachers would intervene once they got an eye full of the clips she applied herself. Can’t wait to see those gems.
We have a fire drill at 11:00. My office is on the seventh floor so it takes a while to get out when you have a few hundred people in front of you. I spend the time wondering how the lady in front of me wearing stiletto heels manages to not get herself hooked up on the edge of a step and hurtle herself to her immediate and embarrassing death.
Once outside I am immediately and completely immersed into one big, giant smoke break. I am enveloped by smokers who apparently are allergic to fresh air because the minute they smell it, they seem compelled to pollute it. I strongly resist the urge to yell out at them “Way to go you big turds! If that had been a gas leak in the building you would have just blown us all up!” Some had their smokes lit up even before they were fully out of the building.
As I stand in the parking lot I watch three CF-18 jet figthers fly over on their way to memorialize the death of Corp. Cirillo at Parliament one year ago today. It was a sobering reminder. Not sobering was hearing a few esteemed co-workers point and laugh saying, “Oh look! They came to see us freezing our butts off out here.” Yeah, that's exactly what they're doing.
Mixed in with a healthy dose of idiocy, I listen to a lot of butchered french and english. “Il y a un tableau whatever…,” and “ c’est weird.” And so on and so forth. All day long. It’s no wonder real french people make fun of the Quebecois. When I worked at CBSA here in Ottawa there was a guy there who told me that one time when he was vacationing in France he tried to talk to the locals in french but they told him “It’s okay. You don’t have to try to speak french. We will speak in english to you.” Day. Made. My favourite story ever. This is the same guy who once tried to tell me how awful living in Newfoundland is, how bad the weather is there, etc. When I asked him if he’d ever actually been to the province he said “Well, no.” He didn’t much appreciate it when I said to him “Oh, so that’s what makes you such an expert on Newfoundland then.” Surprisingly, we weren’t each other’s favourite.
I decide to walk over to walmart on my lunch break to restock my desk with all the essentials – chocolate covered jujubes, of course. While walking there I get dust blown into my eyes and mud on my fancy red shoes from the conctruction site next to my building.
I talk to Derek on the phone. He is not feeling well and went home early.
One of the reasons (minor though it may be) I changed my work schedule to 7:00 to 2:30 is because coming in at 10:00 as I did earlier causes me to miss all the morning meetings. I figure since I’m part of the team it might be nice for me to attend a team meeting every now and then. And lo and behold, our admin guy has been sending me meeting request for 2:00 ever since! What the hell is wrong with people? I am not changing my hours yet again. Dude, I already changed them once for you.
As I start to wrap up the day, I take a glance at my cellphone that hasn’t been working properly since I dropped it a few weeks ago. I need to make sure it is in working order before hitting the highway, to be able to contract Derek in case traffic delays me getting to the school. It feels hot to the touch and I have visions of an exploding phone on the drive home. I dismantle it just in case and prepare to hail mary it all the way home instead.
I leave work at 2:30. (I work a reduced schecule to allow me time to miss rush hour and get home in time to pick everyone up from school/daycare.)
Once I get to my car, I notice a parking ticket tucked under my wiper. I utter a not so silent “WTF?”, get out to snatch the ticket off, look up and realize that even though I paid the $12/day parking fee, I accidentally parked in a very non-obvious no parking spot. Remember I arrived at 6:35. I was the only one on the lot and could have chosen any spot in which to park. I thought it would be nice to not get in the way and park in the first spot, assuming everyone else would park in line as well. I guess nice girls really do finish last. In order to contest it I would need to take time off work and go waaaaay downtown to argue it out and likely not win. After all I did park where I shouldn’t have, even though I did pay to do so. So, instead, it cost me $67 to park at work today. Another reason why I despise my job so much.
After I hastily race home, doing 120km in the fast lane, I make it home in plenty of time to pick everyone up. Nothing like images of your children wandering alone on a school ground to make you throw caution to the wind and high tail it home. Now that I know leaving work at 2:30 affords me ample time to get home, I won’t need to speed. No dilly-dallying allowed though. You never know with this crazy traffic.
I get home, run inside, change into more comfortable clothes and shoes, use the bathroom and head out the door to school.
I get at the school but not in time to park close enough. It’s kind of funny that we drive anyway, given that we live exactly one kilometre away but time doesn’t always permit the luxury of walking and when it does, Danica won’t stay in the stroller. And I am not gonna carry an almost two year old the whole way.
There was a time when I wished I knew more people. I would stand in the schoolyard and see everyone talking to everyone else and wonder if I’ll ever be one of those people. I rememeber my mother always having after school chats with Mrs. Mason or Mrs. Rowe or… And here I am, in my fourth year of schooling with Ingrid, I am at the point where I almost try to avoid having to talk to people. With two girls in school and so many parties and playdates I have gotten to know more than my share. It’s almost hard to try to say hello to everyone while having a conversation with just one at a time. It’s a good feeling but so awkward and so far outside my comfort zone. For an introvert like me it is nothing short of torture.
It’s after 4:00 by the time I pick up all three girls and get back home. After school traffic is pretty crazy. Story of my life. Traffic everywhere.
Lately, Derek and I have really fallen off the home cooked meal bandwagon. It’s hard to be away from home all day and have supper ready to go when you get home. Especially so when you have a pair of picky eaters on your hands. We settle on Superstore chicken, wedges and salad. Derek, Danica and I are the only ones who eat it. Still have to find something for Ingrid and Elodie.
Ingrid skipped Brownies. She usually doesn’t want to go but normally she will anyway. Tonight we were all so tired I just wanted to stay home and do nothing. I need to re-iron some of her badges to her sash anyway and never found the mojo. So she skipped it with the promise that she would go next week.
Instead of resting, though, I put a load of dirty laundry in the washing machine and I went to work rolling and cutting out pumpkin shapes in my sugar cookie dough that I made last night in preparation for Ingrid’s Hallowe’en party on Saturday. Why do I do these things to myself? I do enjoy it but prefer the “having done” much more than the “doing”.
I take a break from baking to sit with Ingrid and prepare our Hallowe'en greetings for the mail. Realizing we are short on stamps, the cards might not actually get out on time. I am not very good at remembering to buy stamps. It's why I like to buy the mega rolls from Price Club. But I'm out and can't remember to buy those either. Darn it.
At midnight I’m still going strong, rolling and cutting, rolling and cutting. Still have a dozen or so to go. At 12 minutes a batch I should be heading to bed around 1am. Not bad for someone who gets up at 5:30 for a 7:00am work start. Going to be tired tomorrow. But what else is new? All self-inflicted.
Too late and too tired to do lunch prep for Ingrid and Elodie. Derek’s morning just got busier. So it goes. Give and take.
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