A Day in the Life 2015, #8
7:30 The family starts to drift down the steps. I ask each boy,"teeth brushed?" one starts to shake his head the other argues that he'll brush after. I point back upstairs. They look at me and shuffle back upstairs.
7:48 Usually both parents are gone by now. They say good morning. They don't offer any guidance. If there is an appointment or something out of ordinary, it is on the white board over the built in desk. Nothing's there this morning except the drawing of a pepperoni pizza with the caption "please Mom, please".
8:00 Breakfast is being served. Both boys have ADHD. I make one an egg and cheese sandwich on one of the deli bagels we keep stored in the freezer. The other refuses to eat. Finally, he agrees to eat a piece of American cheese and six cherries. It's something. I check their back packs and make sure what needs to come out is out and what needs to go in is in. I give the oldest a cup of coffee to replace the Adderall that I picked from his bottle today. I give him a B12, a multi and his anxiety medicine. The youngest is usually off the rails so I give him his Concerta and Straterra,Don't rage against me now, Mom and Dad don't give it to him consistently either, mostly because they don't think he needs to focus weekends and holidays.
By 8:25 both kids are on the bus. I go upstairs to make their beds and clean their rooms. Monday is sheet day but I am armed with my Febreeze which I spray liberally on their sheets before pulling the covers tight and adoring them with their designer masculine pillows.
It's unavoidable that I'll have to do a wash. I reach in the colored, the whites and the towels, grab what looks like a load and throw it all in a super large with double the soap and triple the fabric softener.
9:00 I am back upstairs on my second cup of coffee reading through the weekend's mail wondering who Aunt April is and why I have never heard of her before. Is she really coming for a visit this summer? What will that be like? The American Express Bill is 22 thousand three hundred and some dollars this month. What's mine on there this month? Anything irregular? The groceries from Trader Joes were mostly for me, they prefer Whole Foods. But I'm a live-in. I skim down the list to the drugstore we use. Oh yes, some of that's mine. I'm always in there for foot powder and athlete's food cream and deodorant and shampoo, so I throw in some hairspray, a fragrance, maybe a box of chocolates, but I'm a live-in. I leave the receipts always in the cookie jar. They've never complained. Magazines though. I notice my magazine habit is out of control and looking at a specific date on the statement remember that I went there only for ice cream to go with birthday cake but ended up spendings seventy dollars. That wans't cool. I vow immediately to do something special to show my appreciation.
11:30 I wake up from a nap I didn't intend to take and have to speed to make my tanning appointment. I get home and realize the clothes from this morning are still in the washer. I pour some more fabric softener in and restart the rinse cycle.
12:45 I realize that I've spent an hour on Facebook and I'm hungry. I go to the refrigerator to get out something to eat. Nothing looks great. I forgot to pull out something for dinner. I decide to run to the market now. What should I make? In five minutes, I'm selecting some stuffed chicken breasts from behind the deli counter. I go to the salad bar and throw together a giant salad. I grab a pint of strawberries. I see some twiced bake potatos in the prepared food case. Nice and fresh. I take five. And some sushi. For lunch. I pay and within 40 minutes it is spread out on the kitchen counter. I'm on my IPAD eating sushi dreading the 3 o clock hour.
2:25 I run to the laundry room and throw the clothes from the washer to the dryer. I come back upstairs and set the table for dinner. I put the chicken breasts in a pan and slop some salad dressing on it. Wrap the potatos in tin foil and put them in another pan. I throw the salad in a big wooden bowl and then handslice strawberries on top of the salad. The strawberries are so sweet, I eat half of them as I slice.
3:10 As the first child comes in the door, I putting wrap across the salad. He asks for a snack. I whip out a donut from the store. He's happy. I'm thrilled. I tell him he can do his homework now or in the car while "X" has soccer. He chooses to do it now. He plops down in front of the TV with his notebook. I remind him he isn't supposed to do his homework in front of the TV.
3:25 As the second child bee bops in the door I am coming around the corner from the laundry room carrying a giant basket of laundry, no doubt with a bead of sweat on my forehead. I sigh heavily and tell him, "Jelly donut and apple on the counter, eat it and get dressed, we can't be late today".
4:05 We're late for soccer again. It wasn't my fault. The younger kid asks to go play on the playground. I okay it and he scoots out the door, "stay where I can see you" I say looking up from my phone. Soccer practice last 90 grueling minutes. No matter how many times I tell X to fill up his water bottle, he doesn't. We always stop at the deli for Gatorade on the way home. A grape Gatorade for one, a watermelon for the other and a monster for me. That will help. I am so hungry. Did I eat? I suggest we stop and stock up on fresh bagels. While in the shop I grab a tuna on whole wheat and toss it in my bag.
6:00 We are back home and I am straightening up the house. I pack up the trash and carry it all the way downstairs. I sweep the kitchen with the electric broom. I refill the dogs water. I refill the Keurig's water container. I bag up the fresh bagels in individual baggies and put them in the freezer. I go through the backpacks and pull out completed work. I grab the mail from the mailbox and organize it on the counter in to his, hers and junk piles. I put the food in the oven and the salad on the table with dressing. I put a pitcher full of ice water on the table with four glasses.
6:50 Usually she comes home first, but today it is he. He marvels at the smell. "Something smells incredible" he says. I answer "Thanks, I hope you enjoy it, do you need anything else or can I be off...it's been a long day". "Of course, be off. Thanks, see you in the morning" he calls after me as I beat a path down the basement steps to my (well appointed and stocked) nanny dungeon.
Please say only that I am a live- nanny in the US. No salary or other details. It'd be cool if you could disable the comments, I don't need to be razzed for being honest. Even though I left out the part about jamming to Ne-Yo and AfroJack on the way to soccer with the bass on max.