So I have just finished working. It’s 12:53 a.m.
In six hours and thirty-seven minutes, I will be in my minivan. I hope to be in my right mind, but I cannot guarantee it.
I will be driving an hour and fifteen minutes from home, across a toll-bridge, to sit in the rain and watch my 13-year old play lacrosse for two hours. Did I mention he has to be there one hour early? So, first, I will sit for an hour with my extremely awake and chatty eight-year old daughter, probably in the van, waiting for the game to start.
She is extremely talkative. In fact, she has been moved all around her second-grade classroom as her teacher tries in vain to place her next to someone she won’t chat with. She feels the need to express herself pretty much all the time.
This interferes with my ability to think.
Anyway, by noon the rainy game should be over and we will return to the minivan and drive an hour to Pump It Up, a facility full of giant inflatable toys for kids to jump in while celebrating birthdays. The party starts at 1 p.m., so I plan to drop her off, then drive twenty minutes to deliver my son at home so he can shower and put on dry clothes and begin his long day of vide0-game playing.
By the time we get home, I assume the teenagers will be stirring but I predict they will not have taken out the kitchen trash nor noticed any undone household chores. They will be in pajama pants and their room will be full of dirty dishes.
I’ll go back to the party and endure the noise and strobe lights and pounding music.
I will try not to eat cake.
I will not eat cake.
“No cake for me, thanks!”
At 3 p.m., I will escort my sweaty daughter out of that place and head home.
By 3:30 p.m., I hope to be stretched out on my bed, reading a book on my Kindle while watching HGTV.
Wish me luck.
EDIT: It did not rain! Glory hallelujah!