Some days feel elastic, like hours have more in them than 60 minutes. And then some days, like yesterday, feel like hours have fewer than 30 minutes in them, and no matter how well I plan — and I’m a very good planner — I don’t have enough time to accomplish everything I meant to do.
Woke up with the best of intentions. Early. Not quite 6:30. Meant to go to the gym and knock out five miles or so before going to the grocery store. But I didn’t. Hit snooze enough times that my phone gave up on waking me up. When I woke up woke up, I had slept another two hours, which I rationalized I must have needed.
Aurora had her six-month early-intervention checkup at 12, which meant I had a little more than three hours to clean the house (which includes dishes and laundry and vacuuming and bed-making and toy picking-upping and changing the litter and throwing out the garbage and today, because I didn’t do it last week, comic book away-putting, since I had gotten out my dozen long boxes in advance of Shaun’s visit), close the cats in a room, and try to get to the gym and grocery store and gas. Didn’t get gas the night before; needed to do it today.
The cleaning took longer than I intended, and I never made it to the grocery store — or to the gym — but I got gas, and then Holly was over with the kids and she was supposed to take Avery outside or something, since he has a hard time letting Aurora have her time with her “doctor” (which is the word we use to describe the woman who comes over to help Aurora develop her fine motor skills), but it unexpectedly started to rain. Which meant Avery wasn’t going anywhere, and Holly wasn’t going anywhere, and when I suggested that I take Avery grocery shopping and that Holly handle the appointment, Avery said no.
And, usually, what Avery wants — or, in this case, doesn’t want — Avery gets, or doesn’t get.
The appointment lasted the better part of two hours, and then they were gone, and Aurora was sleeping, and Holly was finishing what she had been working on during the appointment, and I was working — a Web site still to develop; marketing collateral still to develop — and then Holly was gone and the kids were doing their thing and then it was nearly 4, and I had to get Avery to his chiropractor, which took an hour, counting the getting there and the waiting and the getting home. Had to cancel my evening time in the gym day care; no time for yoga.
I don’t like days when I don’t get to the gym at least once, because days when I can’t get to the gym means days when I can’t respond to one of Shaun’s several texts, or check Twitter as much as I’d like to, or even read what my friends post to Facebook. Days when I can’t get to the gym make me feel like I’ve totally disconnected from the world.
Home after the appointment, which meant more time to work, and then it was time to hear Christopher Moore read from his new book, Sacre Bleu, which means getting the kids into the car, and then driving against the commute, and getting the kids out of the car, and waiting, and then waiting again (this time in the autograph line) and dealing with nice-enough people telling me how beautiful the kids are and how, under different circumstances, they would have no problem stealing Avery. And Avery, who understand when he is being paid a compliment, eats this stuff up, making best friends with the strangest of people.
And Aurora, being Aurora, is happiest when she’s the center of attention; she is my daughter after all.
On our walk back to the car, Avery says: Smells like Spring, Daddy.
Yes, Avery, it’s spring.
And he stopped at every flowerbed — which, in Brookline, on the street where we were walking, is several fucking flowerbeds — and he smelled the flowers, which was cute the first time, and even the fifth time, but by the tenth time, not saying to hell with the spring took every bit of patience that the day had left me with.
At home, Aurora went to sleep, and Avery played with his toys, and I finished what I needed to do for work, and I solved an issue with the book that has been nagging me for weeks, and solving this issue kind of solved several other issues, the handling of which took time, and it’s nearly midnight and the kids are asleep and Holly is done at her job and she is going to her apartment and I am still awake, which I will regret tomorrow — today, really — because we are taking the kids to the zoo.