This is my day (it's copied from a post in a lovely, lovely forum but I wrote so much that I had to share):
6:40 a.m.: finally wake up after alarm has been buzzed and snoozed about 4 times. Conan has lightning quick snooze button slapping reflexes, and the alarm's on his side of the bed.
6:50 a.m.: hop in shower, wash hair. wait for the magic of aromatherapy gel to work. it doesn't. wonder why i spent $10 for this crap.
7:00 a.m.: hop out of shower, scramble downstairs totally naked to dryer that houses clean clothes that have been sitting in their for a week. rustle around for clean panties and bra. scramble back upstairs.
7:05 a.m.: stand in front of closet looking for something that doesn't have stains from yesterday's lunch on it. ultimately pick something in black (surprise, surprise).
7:15 a.m.: stealthily go downstairs, make coffee and breakfast, await the morning Shakespearean comedy of getting The Governor ready for school.
7:20 a.m.: The Governor has woken up and is now downstairs wanting oatmeal BEFORE i have gotten the chance to take a single sip of coffee. crap.
7:25 a.m. scramble around kitchen looking for clean spoon, bowl, oatmeal, milk. let His Honor pour oatmeal from packet into bowl as requested by Montessori teaching principle to "let kids assist with daily tasks." wonder if Montessori principles would be absconded if just tap the oatmeal packet ever so slightly so that pouring happens more quickly. let El Capitan pour milk and stir.
7:30 a.m.: remove oatmeal from microwave. soothe crying child who has burst into tears because i stirred the oatmeal and messed up the "pattern." bustle around eating breakfast and drinking coffee and soothing once-again crying child who is simply horrified with the presence of a single fly visiting our kitchen.
7:45 a.m.: scramble to get The Gov. upstairs and dressed.
7:55 a.m. attempt to control ticklish playing child without using restraint techniques in order to get single sock on.
8:00 a.m.: confirm with Conan who is bringing ticklish playing child to preschool. hastily put on makeup and notice growing presence of undereye circles.
8:15 a.m.: flurry of kisses goodbye, drive to bus stop.
8:25 a.m.: board bus to metro stop.
8:45 a.m.: unboard bus, enter metro system. wait for train. ride train that stops and starts and is delayed due to mechanical difficulties/sick passenger/unexplained reason
9:15 a.m.: arrive at work. put out fires. research. answer stupid e-mails. flirt via e-mail with a)law school crush, b) friend from previous job, c) cute husband, or d) all of the above. feel guilty.
12:00 noon: get lunch, go online, car forum, various sites. send Conan funny links, including Triumph the Comic Insult Dog's post-debate spin doctors interview: this one
1:15 pm: work some more. blech.
5:40 pm: leave by slipping out side door. feel guilty even though i have finished everything.
6:45 p.m.: come home just after the boys have finished dinner. inhale dinner while standing. ask His Honor what he did today to which he replies, "just nothing."
7:00 p.m.: play with The Governor or watch Clifford with him while snuggling.
8:00 p.m.: move party upstairs for ritual bedtime struggles. try and convince ticklish playing child to pee in potty, change into dog jammies, brush teeth.
8:15 p.m.: be eternally grateful that Conan is putting the little guy to bed. hear laughter through walls. resist guilty feeling for not "engaging in peaceful and quiet bedtime activities."
9:00 p.m.: try and scoot sleepy child back into bed after he has gotten out wanting a drink of water. watch TV or get on computer.
10:00 p.m.: attempt to go to bed but end up reading.
11:00 p.m.: attempt to go to bed but because Conan has crawled into bed end up laughing like a hyena because he said something funny. kiss Conan and pass out.