(Some names have been changed)
On Tuesday I was really concerned about Rachel babysitting the kids while I did
a presentation for Carol’s creative writing class. It's not that I don't trust
Rachel—I’m grateful—but she has no experience with kids. In fact, when I asked
her to babysit she admitted she'd never changed a diaper before."I'll tell
them to hold it until I get home." I said.
Because of the change in schedule for the day, my holy hour of nap time was desecrated. For one thing, I
still had to shower, my merciless I-look-greasy-in-23-hour hair was lower in
priority with some last minute homework, letting Brad go to the temple before
work, and reading Fancy Nancy forty times. I also would have to rethink when my
Tuesday homework would be done.
After my shower, I realized Lydia was still babbling to herself. NO! I thought
to myself. Today of all days you CANNOT mess with our schedule. I checked on
her. Dry diaper. Sleepy face. I hoped she'd still sleep for most of the time I
My creative writing presentation for Carol’s class went fine. She reminded me
that my novel is still sounding too middle grade, but then she asked me,
"Why do you feel it has to be young adult?" I didn't know what to
say. I have no problem writing middle grade, but this book has so much me in
Maybe I think middle grade readers won't take it seriously? Food for Thought.
I changed my clothes in the bathroom into my "jogging" outfit. I know
I'm starving to get back to physical activity since I've chosen the one form of
exercise I HATE. I cannot jog. Even in my national-jumprope-competition days, I
couldn't. There's a mental block that's bigger than the physical one. I gave it
a shot, but I gave up after three blocks. I don't know what to do with my arms.
I think every person I passed on my way home from campus was thinking, "What
in the WORLD is she doing with her arms." So I stopped and walked.
Turns out everyone was breathing at home. They were even happy. I'm relieved. I
had imagine every horror in the world taking place in the less than two hours I
Rachel didn't go home right away. She's been spending a lot of time at our house since
Vincent lost his job. I think she doesn't want to be at home. She's mentioned
all he does is play video games all day, and I know she has 0 tolerance for
I like having her there to talk to me, but it's hard too. Somehow it messes up the Feng Shei of the whole house. I forget how multitask while she's here. My normal juggling is harder with eyes on me. And I never know what to say when she complains about Vincent. I'd never talk to someone about Brad that way, but I know her marriage is Hard.
At one point, I started throwing dinner together, realizing that bedtime was close and Brad would be home soon. As I stirred the tomato sauce, Rachel told me I looked "domestic." Which coming for her is not a compliment, and it sent a torrent of stress through my body. When I her face says, "You're doing menial labor" I feel more menial. Brad got home and Rachel decided to go (I'm was so relieved). Brad took over dinner and tells me to sit and relax. Do something I want to do or catch up on homework. I feel like the world's worst friend, but when she left it felt like a breathe of fresh air. I felt in control again. I felt my importance is restored because the one questioning it left.