I heard the alarm on his blackberry go off. He got up. It was only 4.30am. The usual time for him to go to work. He is considerate, but I am aware of the shower being turned on. I am determined to go back to sleep but know he is now getting dressed on the other side of the closed door to my left. I wonder if he will feed the dog before he leaves. I hope not. As soon as she is done eating she taps at the door to the garden until I get up and let her in. On the other hand at least she won’t follow me to the kitchen the minute I get up. Interrupts the ‘my’ time I set aside for myself before the bedlam of getting the kids up, fed, and dressed.
He leans over in the dark to give me a kiss good bye. We haven’t had much alone time over the past few weeks. He finds some skin, my arm hugging the blanket up to neck and rugs it softly. I love you Nicky Fleming he says, then leaves.
Ten minutes and my alarm will go off. Still time to get some sleep.
I better get up. No hitting the snooze button for me. But I’m tired this morning. It was a late night for me last night with dance classes to attend that left me wide awake for hours after I got home. Talked James’ head off. On and on I went. Another glass of wine and on and on I went. Even I wish I would just stop! The chicken catcher won ‘America’s got talent’. Love his songs but can he make a show in Vegas with them? James wishes I would stop talking I’m sure. I wonder if he’ll find my banter charming after another year of me. Will the day come when we just roll over and ignore each other? Nothing left to say. It’s all been said. Too old to have opinions that matter anymore. The world so completely different from the world we knew. Hope he doesn’t touch me. Thin old man lips and saggy gut. Or will we move on before that day. I’ll have another melt down. This time I really will up route and go to Italy and walk through fields of sun flowers. Toddle around on a Vespa.
I go to the loo, empty the bladder before I have the nerve to weigh myself. Weight determines whether it will be a good or bad day. Weight holding at 120. Phew. Next to the kitchen where James has the coffee ready for me. Sets the machine up the night before. At 5.45am it magically switches itself on.
Check my emails. Will it be a protein shake this morning or peanut butter toast? Back to bed with my coffee.
The news rattles on. I catch bits of it. A Yale student murdered by the laboratory technician. Her body found stuffed in wall – on the day of her scheduled marriage to her high school sweetheart. She is pretty. Seems so much more of a shame when some one is cute. Why? Is it easier to feel close to someone that doesn’t repulse you? I have my phobias. When I had my chemo I thought it would be a real test for me – life without hair. How would I handle it? But my chemo didn’t cause my hair to fall out. I was saved that lesson. Love my kids more when they look cute. Same with my man, same with myself. We all have good and bad days for no explainable reason. Then there are people, the guy in the super market checkout, who in a photograph could be described as ‘ouch’, but in reality it’s the way his eyes crinkle slightly when he grins. Yes, I can see the beauty in him.
What to wear today? I have a Lindy hop class later where I have to dive over my instructor’s back. Supposedly he’ll catch me and pull me under him. He told me to wear work out clothes. I’ll wear a dress. Change into work out clothes later. Don’t want to wear heels today. Love my birkinstocks. SCARY. Need to get myself some granola! Would never dream of wearing Birkinstocks, but after a recent trip to Amsterdam, they are all the rage there. Bought some Michael Kors boots the other day. And may I say they weren’t cheap. Wore them to work, nearly did myself in. High heels. Very high. Haphazard outfit. Posh dress with Birkinstocks. Voila.
Had my hair cut the other day. Now it’s a bob. Gave myself some bangs too. Hides the frown lines on my forehead. If I flat iron it, it looks ok. Flat iron it? Crazy. On a trip to New York earlier this year I saw the Flat Iron building. Had never heard of it before. It really blew me away. One of my all time favorite land marks. So much more charming than say, the Sydney opera house.
Charles Kemp reports that the temperatures are going up again before the end of the week. I prefer the cooler weather. Not cold, not fingers freezing off cold, just cool. Cardigan cool. Every since the radiation I’m always hot.
The coffee tastes good. Sometimes James gets carried away. I better have a quick shower, throw clothes on and get busy. Should really go for a quick run. Got to get into relatively good shape for the Long Beach 5K we signed up for next month. But the running, even though it’s only 20 mins makes me sweat big time and will frizz up my newly ironed hair, and I’m not about to wash that all over again!
I’ll boil the girls some eggs this morning. They only eat the whites, but it’s protein. Maybe a piece of toast each too.Enid with her chocolate milk. Cosette drinks water. Some raspberries out on the table in the hope that they will eat one.
I wander into their room. Do the usual wakey wakey girlie wirlies three times. Go back to the kitchen and wait. Go back in. Wakey wakey girlie wirlies.
Cosette grumps in. Big hair. Sulky.Enid more sprightly. They both sit at the counter. Stare down at their food, for 10 minutes. Can you girls eat, DO something. Look at the time. You’re old enough now to time manage. Give Enid her growth hormone shot. I pick out their clothes to speed things along. Cosette ignores the pile on the floor and picks out her own. It’s starting to matter what they wear. Vans, Skechers, they are ok, Crocs and Uggs.
No substitute. No idea where they learn that from. Never mattered to me – designer labels. Worry about Enid and her new Hello Kitty back pack. James’ 20 year old daughter told me it was not cool to have a back pack with wheels. Personally I think it’s sensible. Poor little Enid lugging that huge thing on her back. Wish I didn’t know it wasn’t cool. Enid drags that thing and all I can hear is the noise. It’s loud Enid I say, why don’t you pick it up? I think the whole school can hear her coming. She seems fine. It’s me…pick it up for God’s sake!
I hang around the school playground with them awhile. Cosette always has to do a last minute loo run. Another one of my phobias, being caught out and desperate. She must have learned it from me. Once back she loiters with Enid and I for a while – it’s still ok to have your mother be seen at school. Not yet at that stage where I have to drop them off round the corner and not make an appearance. Soon some friend or other greets Cosette and she is off. Little miss popular. Enid holds my hand. I have made it a point to put in an appearance in the mornings. There is a school bully who picks on Enid. Enid who is diminutive for her age. A consequence of Turners Syndrome. I had a word with the bully. Very nicely I asked her if my daughter offended her in anyway? She acted like she didn’t know what I was talking about. I told her that I would like to fix whatever is bothering her about Enid. I also alerted her to the fact that there had been complaints from other parents about her and if she continued to belittle people I would have to tell the principle. Since then she has been eerily nice to Enid, but I make an appearance just to keep her on the straight and narrow. I would not normally get involved in the likes and dislikes my children have for others, it’s all part of life, but this girl picked on Enid all of last year and I want it to stop.
The bell rings, and I am off to work. Off to my nice cosy office ten minutes from home where I usually work alone and in idle moments write things for writebuzz. Keeps me away from the tin of cookies and deters me from pulling out the vacuum to do other fill in jobs when it’s quiet.
James sends me lots of emails. His busy job with trains. He has a lot of responsibility. Emails from friends all over the world. Lovely to stay in touch. Us girls keeping track of each other. I was at jazzercise last night. Every time I go I like the women more. Ages range from 18 to 83.
The instructor Ruby said, ‘got to shampoo today. Got all kinds of crud in there’. Danelle asks me ‘what part of her body is she talking about?’ We crack up laughing. I later tell Ruby, “oh I don’t have any hair down there,” she said.
Girls know how to have fun. I’m always filled with a real warmth when I’m with the jazz ladies. I think women should look after each other. I remember one day on chemo, feeling horrendous. My husband at the time took off for his usual day of work. Just another day for him. I was trying to hold it together. Load the two kids in the car and drive to work. I had a long commute back then. As I’m driving away, my friend Janene slows her car and winds down the window. She asks me, ‘how are you today Nicky?” It was heartfelt and made me cry. It was the women who left meals on my door step every night so I didn’t have to cook. The women who left notes on my door, “we’re right here if you need a break from the kids”.
I take care of the usual stream of emails. Responding to the ones that need it. The Fed Ex guy comes in for a chat. He marked on my calendar the day we were going to win the lottery. That day was July 23rd and I went out and bought a bunch of tickets for us. He came bouncing in….’today’s the day Nicky’. He was so certain. I called him that night to say – no we hadn’t even won a buck, to which he responded ‘but we had fun’.
The UPS driver. Always banging on the back door of the warehouse instead of coming to the front. Me wishing I hadn’t worn those Michael Kors boots as I run to greet him.
The phone rings – we have caller ID. I don’t answer the ones I know are solicitations. I open the mail, pay bills. What should I have for lunch?
I sort through photos taken this summer in England. Di looks frightened. My Mum’s cousin in her mid 70’s. She was always the life and the soul, now she looks thin and afraid. She can’t remember anything. She didn’t even remember we were stopping by that day, it took her by surprise. Her useless husband just goes on and on. 90 now. Actually he’s nice but useless does fit. Can’t boil an egg. Can’t understand why we live in America. “All sky scrapers and guns’, he said just before he adds ‘I went on a plane once in world war II’.
I was in the back sorting the advertising material when I heard the door open. I was just thinking I should lock that when I’m in the back. Anyone could come in, steal my purse lying on the floor or worse, when I saw him. Oh my God!
Published on writebuzz®:
> A day in my life