Category: A Day in the Life

A Day in the Life, Family, Good Housekeeping, hair

Apples and Hours

the outside lane

My coworker/friend and I were comiserating over how exhausting it is to be a mom and work full-time outside the home, and how we struggle to find time to cram everything that has to get done into the nooks and crannies of the day.  Like how, this morning, I put my makeup on and fixed my hair during the oven pre-heating process and first 10 minutes of baking of Thor’s lunch (fish sticks…mmm!), then spent the last 10 minutes of baking, cleaning the kitchen and getting breakfast into him.  

A few minutes later, my friend calls out to me, “Hey!  Gwen Stefani has the same problem we do!”

“What’s that?” I asked.  Because I know Gwen Stefani is not struggling with trying find pants that fit nicely, or worrying about having to buy pantyhose for a corporate event.

“She has a hard time fitting in everything she needs to get done in a day–trying to balance work and motherhood.”

I burst out laughing because…nannies, housekeepers, personal assistants, and probably personal chefs.  And a husband who also has personal assistants.  Do you know how much more I could get done with a full-time housekeeper?  Because while my beloved (and oh, they are my Precious) Molly Maids* do a fantastic job of cleaning up what I have missed once a month, do you know how much time it would free up if I didn’t have to think about doing dishes?

But it’s relative.  I’m sure Gwennie (who is one of my favorite celebrities, and who is allowed to call me Laney) really does feel the struggle.  Her struggles are just different from mine.  Whereas my time away from Thor equals three apples per hour, her time away from her kids equals three thousand apples per hour.  But at the end of the day, no matter how many apples we have, we both just have 24 hours, and we’re both just trying to make time for our families, while staying on top of everything else that is expected of us.

Which is why, when my alarm went off at 5:45 this morning, instead of getting up and getting going, I went and got Thor out of his bed.  I brought him back into mine and gave him snuggles until 6:35.  Yes, my hair isn’t gorgeous today, and he’s had more inspired lunches, but he got a nice chunk of time knowing he was loved, wanted, and thought of.  I’ll take his smile over great hair any day.

 

*Hiring Molly Maids is the best thing I have ever done for myself and my family.  They are reasonably priced and do a great job.  Consider it!

A Day in the Life, Uncategorized

I Can’t Tell You Where to go if You Don’t Know Where You Are Going

the outside lane

A random, wild-eyed, elderly woman came running in to my office today, and right up to my desk.  Before I could ask how I could help her, she started croaking at the top of her voice, “Granite building!  Where is the Granite building?!”

I told her I wasn’t sure, but I’d be happy to look it up for her.  She croaked, “Granite building!” a couple more times while I googled, tapping her foot impatiently. 

“Where is it?” She demanded.

“I’m lookin’,” I said, looking.  “Is there an office you’re trying to get to in the building?”

“My doctor,” she said.  “And that stupid girl told me he was in the Granite building.”

“I’m not finding any buildings called Granite–can you help me with any other details?”

“It’s called the Granite Building!  And it’s over there,” she flapped her hand out to her left.

“Okay, I’m not finding anything called the Granite Building.  Do you have your doctor’s name, and then I can look up his address for you?”

She made a sound like a teakettle starting to boil, pumped her tiny fists of rage up and down at her hips and bobbed up and down on her knees.  “I have his address,” she yawped.  “I know his address!  I just need to know which one is the Granite building!”

And with that, she stomped out of my building, into the car waiting for her.

Me?  I laughed (after making sure she wasn’t the one driving, and that the driver looked more capable of actually making it anywhere.)

When I was a candy striper, there was a lady in the geriatric ward named Mrs. Young.  Mrs. Young was on oxygen, and frequently felt that she could not breathe.  I would be walking down the hall, pushing my little cart, and I would hear, “I cain’t breathe!  hhuuuuuuuuuurk!  I cain’t breathe!”

I would go in and pat her hand and say, “Mrs. Young?  Can you talk?”

And she would say, “Why, yes.”

And I would say, “Then you can breathe.  Because you can’t talk, if you can’t breathe.”

And she would focus her eyes on me suspiciously, then say.  “Fine.”

I would leave, and as I would be going out the door she would yell, “ICE CREEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAM!  ICE CREEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAM!”

One or the other, all day long.  “I cain’t breathe!” or “Ice cream!”

Granite Building Lady reminded me of Mrs. Young.