Sunday, October 3, 2010

"Two Hours and Thirty Three Minutes" CAGB

5:57. Wake up.
Child tugging at my covers.
Needs milk.
Two cups.
Text to Mom: LY.
Fastest shower in the history of Earth.
Another child crying from the crib.
Get child.
Change diaper.
Brush 72 teeth.
Lift older child onto toilet.
Wipe butt.
Wash our hands.
Put on three pairs of pants.
Three shirts.
Two pairs underpants.
Brush two heads of hair.
(Chopped mine off to save time.)
Six socks on.
Six shoes on.
Ten seconds to breathe.
Ironically wish there were eight.
Heart breaks.
Back to business.
Toast bagel.
Spread Butter.
Chug cold coffee.
Two pairs shoes taken off.
Put them back on.
Stern reprimand.
One sock completely vanished.
Carry still somehow sleepy kids to car.
Kiss fluffy cheeks as I go.
Buckles big into seat.
Wants to swing like a monkey.
No time, in you go.
Buckle little.
Forget lunches.
Run back in.
Fuck. It's (only) 6:25.
Get on the road.
Kids eat all of bagel.
Wish I had made two.
Spill coffee going over traintracks.
Slam. Traffic. Red lights.
Kids wonder "What's wrong?"
45 straight minutes seeing red.
Turn off car.
Get out bigger child.
Backpack, stuffed cow, lunch bag.
Smaller child.
Walk into school.
Sign child in.
Hug goodbye.
Starts crying.
Heart breaks, but got to go.
Find younger child.
Grab younger child.
Drag back to car.
Fuck. It's (only) 7:30.
Still only 15 miles from home.
Back track onto 29.
Red fucking lights again.
Red on the horizon.
See red. Expletives.  40 minutes.
Younger child poops in diaper.
Starts whimpering.
Onto Route 1.
Full blown crying from back seat.
Something about "poopy pants."
Defunct businesses.
Five minutes to go 10 miles.
Red lights again.
Pass work.
Arrive to dorm of lovely sister in law.
Turn off car.
Get baby out.
Laboriously unhook carseats.
Laboriously hook into SIL's car.
So many bags.
Baby insists on carrying her own lunch bag.
Notice she's getting bigger. 
Heart breaks.
Kiss baby goodbye.
Lament always being so late.
Back out of lot.
Stop for stupid frat boy.
Stop for stupid frat boy.
Drive 100 yards.
Stop light. Red. Expletive.
Longest light in history.
Green, finally.
Stop for stupid frat boy.
Weave through campus.
No parking spots.
Next lot back.
Got one.
Chug last of cold coffee.
Out of car.
Sun's finally risen.
Grab bag.
Stop for stupid frat boy.
Arrive to office gasping.
Day begins.
Fifteen minutes late.
It's (only) 8:30.


  1. Fantastic capture of the life of a working mother. Makes me want to cry one minute and laugh the next-the true emotional pattern of a Mommy.

  2. Oh Catherine. You did capture it so perfectly.