14 November 2012

Tuesdays are the days where I play working mom. 

I wake up at a leisurely 7:30 or so, and lie in bed with Jacob while the JakeRamsay toddler destroys the living room.

We get up, drink tea lattes, and Jacob makes french toast. We try vainly to keep Mr. Mannerless from throwing food on the floor. Sit on the porch and talk about the bees and the squash in the garden. 

At 9:45, Jacob trips off to work because that's how offices in LA roll. It's about this time that I remember that I have to teach and I have exactly 1 hour and 45 minutes to get myself and the greasy little boy packed up and out the door. Then life looks like this:

Scramble together some lunch and (sometimes even) dinner for myself. 

Trick Jake into barricading himself in the pack'n'play.


Shower in peace. 

Coconut oil to the face. 
Coconut oil/Baking Soda/Cornstarch blend to the armpits. (You know it!)

Streak past toddler in pack'n'play

Stare at closet trying to find the magic overlap where shirt-without-holes overlaps with outfit-I-haven't-taught-in-this-semester.

Curse because I never go shopping.
Curse because imprisoned toddler is now - rightfully - throwing a fit. Extricate toddler.

Return to bedroom and land the perfect outfit where professional meets academic meets young enough meets old enough meets you-will-be-safe-when-you-sit-on-your-desk-in-front-of-your-students...meets quit dreaming and put your stupid clothes on so Jake will stop pulling off your underwear and we can all get on with our lives.

Shovel toddler into high chair - again - to force lunch down his throat before he goes to my friend's house.

Fumble through my primping ritual because I'm woefully untrained.
Food in Jake's mouth.
Food in Jake's mouth.
Consider styling my hair.
Food in Jake's mouth. 
Forget about styling my hair. 

Pack the baby's bag and my bag and my lunch. Clothe and shoe the baby. Rapidly pick up the house so it won't look like a warzone when Papa gets home tonight. Sling three bags over my shoulder. Free Jake because he's climbed back into the pack'n'play. Secure him at my hip, and begin the 43 step trek up to the street.


Huff. Huff. Huff. Quads. Quads. Quads. Arrive at the street level. Hair clinging to neck. Toddler clinging to hair. Bag straps gouging into collar bones. Pray that none of the neighbors are out to watch me rock the beast of burden in heels look.

Leave 15 minutes late. Turn on Spanish talk radio and reach back to periodically pinch toddler to keep him awake.

Arrive at friend/babysitter's. Carefully place the note I've written to the Beverly Hills Parking Enforcement on the dashboard since I'm not permitted to park on the street (and tickets run a whopping 93$...hmm...how do I know this...) 

Take Jake up to my friend's apartment as he repeats "Hi Joe Joe." "Hi Joe Joe." over and over. Deposit him on my friend's floor - with Joe Joe. Get an aggressive hand-wave and a loud emphatic "BYE!" as he runs off to fresher and greener toys. (So much for healthy attachment...)

Arrive at school and luckily score a parking spot near the elevators. (This is one of my charisms.) 

Trot to my office and find students waiting at my door. Meet with students. 


Prep. Photocopy. Update Spreadsheets. Answer e-mails. Eat some food.

Walk to class with Wendy. Vent about students.  

Class starts at 4:30. Stupid questions. Bland discussion. Sleepy faces. Mediocre workshop groups.

Eat dinner in between classes at 7:00. Call home to here my child bid me goodnight: "Nynyma" - and then immediately ask to nurse - "Nu?"

Teach second class. Joke around with them because I like these kids more. Meet with student at the break. Meet with student after class. 

10pm begins the long eerie walk across campus in the dark. 

Come home to my lanky husband and some leftovers. Click around the internet. Check next week's grocery deals at Sprouts. 

Borrow Jacob's toothbrush because mine is still in Texas.



  1. I was totally cracking up at this because yikes, I feel ya. Except the 43 brutal steps. That'd probably be good for me to incorporate though.

    Toddlers come with SO much stuff! My diaper bag looks like an apocalyptic survival kit. I'm pretty sure I am in fact developing back problems from it.

    And hey, I put coconut oil on my face too! Smells delish, feels delish.

  2. Three more weeks and we'll be rid of the monsters.

  3. Aww, you are a cute little professor. :) And I HATE keeping toddlers awake in the car! I'm glad I'm not the only one to do it because people think I'm crazy when they see me.


  4. Those were the days, darlin'

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