Thursday, May 21, 2009

A Day in the Life

6 am: Max is squirming, grunting and kicking me. I try to reposition him so that he'll go back to sleep. No dice. He opens his eyes, sees me, and gives me a big grin. That's ths sign that he's up for the morning, 15 minutes before the alarm goes off at:

6:15 am: Ignore alarm and try to go back to sleep. Kicking and cooing baby convince me that its time to get up.

6:22 am: Stagger out of bed bleary eyed. Call Abby upstairs to get dressed. Smile at the baby playing happily with his toys. Flop back down in bed rationalizing to self that it will take the seven year old a few minutes to find the perfect outfit, and why should I spend those moments upright if I have a choice?

6:37 am: Fix Abby's hair, then time for breakfast. Do toaster waffles count as a complete breakfast? They do today.

7:15 am: Violin time. Not bad today. Only one round of tears, provoked by a fourth finger shifting excercise. The last 15 minutes is punctuated by repeated pleadings to focus on the dynamics in the minor section of the Bach Bouree.

8:25 am: Send Abby off to school. Max is ready for morning nap. Bottle with meds, rocking chair, half hour of nursing. Max is fast asleep, until:

9:07 am: The inevitable phone call wakes up the baby. Cue 20 more minutes of nursing and my daily fix of "The Price is Right."

9:30 am: Baby is successfully sleeping in the crib. Steal some internet time. It'll just take a second. Yeah, right.

10:20 am: Must. Take. Shower.

10:40 am: Shower concludes. (Yes, it was long. I was escaping!) Max has decided he's done napping. Mom, however, doesn't agree with this and lays down to nurse him, hoping he'll fall back asleep.

11:00 am: Mom gives up. Max is smiling, giggling, and shoving his fingers in my mouth. I need to get ready. I get dressed, blow dry my hair and entertain Max, who despite what he thinks, needed to sleep much longer.

11:20 am: Stock diaper bag, pack lunch for Abby. Brush Ashlynn's hair. Feed Ashlynn lunch. Change a diaper. Pack violin, concert costume, concert shoes, and Diet Coke in the van to be the the school by:

11:45 am: Pick up Abby from school. Drop Ashlynn off at a friends house so she can get to kindergarten. Head down Parley's canyon for a Doctor's appointment at:

1:00 pm: Max's surgeon says he looks great and that we don't need to come back for six more months. The incision is healing very well, the lumps and bumps should fade within a year's time. Funny moment comes when Abby picks up a scrapbook of the surgeon's "before and after" pictures, and mom realizes that along with being a craniofacial surgeon, he is also a plastic surgeon, and its an album full of boob job pics. We are out of there by:

1:30 pm: When we head to the bank, calling the health insurance company on the way to check on a reimbursement claim sent 6 months ago. Can't get too mad at them, because they're the ones that need to pay the 60k or so from Max's surgery. Drop Abby off at a friend's house who also takes lessons from her teacher so that friend's mom can take her to group class so at

2:30 pm I can go racing back up the canyon to be home by:

3:20 pm to nurse the baby and teach 3 violin lessons, nurse the baby again and leave the house by:

5:30 pm to go to Park City to pick up my husband from work, grab a quick dinner from Arby's and head back down the mountain to Abby's spring violin group recital which starts at:

7:00 pm when we listen to the concert and try to entertain the 6 month old baby and the 5 year old sister. (I'm not sure which was harder!)

8:05 pm: Concert finishes, and we proceed to Dairy Queen for post-recital ritual and then once again, head back up the canyon. This prompts utter hysteria from Max, which results in the "extreme breastfeeding" written about in yesterday's post.

9:30 pm: Home. Finally. The girls, who fell asleep in the car, stagger upstairs to bed. Max has to be convinced first, that he doesn't need to wake up the entire neighborhood and tell them about the injustices of carseats, and second, that the world really isn't crashing down around him. Collapse in bed next to him and nurse until we both fall asleep in an exhausted stupor.

By the Numbers:

221: Number of Miles driven in one day. (We could have made it to St George!)
2: Number of complete trips down and back up Parley's canyon. (I think I could navigate it with my eyes closed at this point!)
40: Number of minutes of hysterical crying from Max. (He hates the carseat!)
2: Number of times Abby changed her clothes in restrooms.
2: Number of Diet Cokes I've had today.
17: Number of times I wondered why I thought having a 7 year old violin prodigy while living 45 miles away from her teacher was a smart idea.
18: Number of times I heard the song "Gives You Hell" by the All American Rejects on XM radio while driving. (214 channels and there's still nothing unique on the radio! But at least it was an appropriate song for today.)
3: Times I wished I had a helicopter and a pilot's liscense.

And the best part about it all? Abby has to be at her teacher's house at 7:20 am for a school concert tour in the morning. She'll perform at 3 schools, followed by, you guessed it, a violin lesson. Sigh. I need a nap. One that lasts at least until Sunday.


  1. Sheesh girlfriend, I thought that you were moving to BFE to get out of the crazy fast lane... I guess I forgot... this is STACY we're talking about! :) No one better suited for it. :)

  2. My goodness. No, I take that back. HOLY CRAP!! You are amazing, Stacy.

  3. Stacy you are so funny! Now pat yourself on the back for being such a devoted mama.

    Oh and LMAO at the book in the plastic surgeons office!

  4. I hope I'm not out of line here, but it sounds like that's a lot of running around. Unless you're up for it, in which case, go girl!

    Sometimes it's hard to see where/when we can let go a little and step back and find another way. I don't have any easy answers, but I wish I did.

    Last year when I was nursing our baby #4, I felt fine, but now, only in retrospect, do I realize I was doing **too much.** It took weaning him (he was 19 months old) to feel "normal" again and realize how wiped out I had been. Feeling wiped out 24/7 was "normal" for me then.

    I hope your life eases up a little, somehow. ((((hugs))))


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