I kept notes on a day of being unemployed with small children.
At dawn: First I tended Faye, after Talia already got up at 3. Fed Faye. Made coffee. Looked out at the rainy darkness. Answered a text message. Wrote a poem on scrap paper. Changed diapers (it barely registers now).
Helped Claude wake up. Induced Claude to eat. Opened the curtains to let the light in. Made Claude breakfast. Made self breakfast. Made Talia breakfast. Made Talia coffee. Shower. Eyeshadow. Clothes & shoes.
Induced Claude to go to car. Drove to preschool. Argued with Claude about whether I parked in the wrong place. Recaptured escaping Claude in the hallway. Smiled at numerous mothers on the staircase. Put away Claude’s lunch and gear. Located Claude’s misplaced boots and socks. Soothed clinging Claude until he let me leave. Drove home.
Started the wash. Tended Faye. Tried to clean diaper pail but ran out of cleaning spray. Moved old book boxes to the attic. Let Faye nap in baby carrier. Ensuing backache from wearing baby carrier. Felt overwhelmed by too many todo lists.
Chatted with Talia about health insurance. Ephemeral guilt about unfinished paperwork. Answered doorbell. Showed the insect exterminator where to spray. Decided not to take Faye for an errand; heavy rain. Hastily hung up the delicate laundry to dry, the rest in the dryer.
Soothed Faye. Fed Faye lunch. Cooked food for future dinners. Ate sundry food while standing up and doing other things. Put aside boxes of old papers to sort later. Piled up empty boxes for recycling. Tidied living room. Played with Faye. Tidied kitchen, but only halfway. Made this list.
The day is only half done. Is it all banal?