A Typical Tuesday

When asked what our day looks like, I hear myself prefacing the answer with “well today wasn’t typical, but . …”

Apparently I need to change my expectations or my habits.

But today was a typical Tuesday.

6 a.m. I stayed up too late updating my blog Monday night, and therefore ignored the alarm. I can do amazing math in my half conscious state. 6 -1 = 5 and therefore not enough sleep for me to operate machinery, much less perform well as a mother/wife/teacher.

8:03 a.m. “Mom, It’s 8:30! Are you going to get up? Are we going to the park today? Is it going to be hot or cold? Can I play the Wii then?”

When did snuggle time turn into this?

“Riv, It’s not 8:30, it’s 8:03! I am getting up. I should have two hours ago. Yes, we are going to the park. Yes, it is always hot, but you know it’s cold too. Wear shorts. Wear a hoodie. And no … no Wii right now.”

I open my eyes.

Kip groans and rolls over.

He’s not feeling well. He coughs.

There is something I don’t understand about him. When I get sick I drink lots of water and ignore it until I’m really sick. Then I retreat to bed and pretend the world can run without me.

He calls in sick and then spends the day catching up on all his non-work related projects. I think the new CD needs some finishing touches today.

He mumbles something about how everybody at work would be really mad at him if he had the swine flu and came to work anyhow.

Yeah. He is right.

9:30 a.m. We eat breakfast. I’m running at least an hour behind schedule, but we do the morning family devotion routine anyhow. My 10-year-old reads the Bible verses, and I enjoy hearing how she is not only reading better, but “doing” the voices. Miriam sounds a little bit like Barbie when she asks Pharaoh’s daughter, “Shall I go and find a Hebrew woman to nurse this baby for you?”

10 a.m. I respond to a couple of e-mails about a field trip I’m planning. I ask my daughter about the math lesson she is working on. The phone rings, our neighbor needs a favor, which is no problem. I just have to slide it into a space somewhere between 2:30 and 3 p.m.

10:40 a.m. Dang, I’m late for my weekly Bible Study class and I didn’t get a shower.

10:50 a.m. I arrive at the Bible study and use my stealth powers to slide into my small group unnoticed. No, that isn’t true. The attendance person laughs because I always arrive about the time she finishes taking attendance.

1 p.m. The kids and I meet up with some of our friends at Kenneth Hahn park for a post-Bible study play date/ lunch break. The kids need the run-around time, and I like connecting with this group of moms that I only see on Tuesdays.

2:30 p.m. I rush back home to babysit my neighbor’s little one for a few minutes while she walks their dog. I make sure the 6-year-old has the right clothes for his soccer skills class. I return a call from our children’s church director about a policy meeting that I missed. I make sure Kip is ok. He looks sick but the inside cover of the CD is looking good.

3:35 p.m. The kids and I are back in the car and I’m trying not to be upset that we are already 5 minutes late on the first day of class. Luckily the instructor remembers us from the track and field class last month.

While my son runs around orange cones and practices butting a soccer ball with his head … is that even safe? I chat with another group of moms. These ones all have kids in public school. They keep me current with things like science fairs and homework. Sometimes the normalcy of their routine sounds refreshing. They know me from last month, so I don’t have to field questions about homeschooling this time.

4:45 p.m. We swing back to the house and pick up Kip for a special Disney movie screening at the theater complex near our home. It is for a movie that I haven’t heard about yet, but my daughter has decided it sounds a little babyish. The 6-year-old boy has no opinion.

5 p.m. We barely arrive before show time, only to realize this is like every other “free” thing in LA. We are shown to the back of the line that wraps around the theater. An attendant tells us the lineup started two hours ago.

5:05 p.m. A very strange thing happens. The same screening employee approaches us and tells us that they need more of our “demographic” in the screening pool. I look around and notice that we might very well be the only white, mother-father-daughter-son group in line to see this free screening of Disney’s first black princess. We are ushered to the front of the line.

5:06 p.m. We are told that the theater is full anyhow. An immediate interrogation irrupts from the 10 and 35 year olds in our group, “why would they allow more people to register for an event than they have room for.”

I look incredulously at the 35-year-old.

How long have you lived in LA?

I tell the 10-year-old to not be upset. Just wait.

And thankfully, I’m right. The same person approaches us and gives us coupons for ANY movie we want to see, along with the promised coupons for free popcorn and soda.

5:10 p.m. We trade our coupons for the 7 p.m. showing of Monsters vs. Aliens in 3D IMAX, and I suggest we try the indoor putt putt golf place in the same movie theater complex.

5:15 p.m. Kip takes the kids to the glow in the dark, indoor golf place, and I sneak off to Nordstrom Rack where I find an awesome sweatshirt. Yeah, that is what Kip thought too. Sweatshirt? But I am really excited. It has sleeves long enough for me, and I can ditch my old sweatshirt, a 10-year-old, second generation, hand-me-down that came from my sister who got it from my brother’s high school girlfriend.

7:10 p.m. We slip into the best seats in the house for the IMAX film. I try really hard not to be upset that we missed the first few minutes of the movie. I might have glared at the person who, 5 minutes earlier, told me to “Relax, movies always have 20 minutes of commercials.”

He makes up for it by going out to get our popcorn and soda. I never eat movie popcorn or drink soda, so that makes me a little sick.

8:30 p.m. I’m still laughing about the movie, which is totally worth seeing if you can take a 10-year-old kid with you to enjoy the clever humor.

9 p.m. Kids go to bed and I decide to ignore the mess in their room and the load of unfinished laundry in the drier. I check my e-mail and decide that tomorrow really has to be a typical day so I can get something done.

But then I look at my calendar and realize that I have a special field trip planned in morning, and I’m driving the carpool. And then there is that appointment in the afternoon and a potluck in the evening.

I might have to wait until Thursday for a typical day.