Monday
7:20 a.m.: Alarm clock goes off. But the five-year-old has already woken me up at 6:45, asking if he can go downstairs and watch TV. Then, it’s grind the coffee, make milk for both kids, run the coffee maker, and make my usual breakfast: cottage cheese, blueberries, walnuts, almonds, and the tiniest bit of fancy Nutella.
It’s a mad dash to get both kids, my husband, and the dog out the door and off on their days by 8:30. I have thirty minutes to get dressed and ready before throwing my hair in a tichel (Jewish women’s traditional head scarf).
At 9:00 a.m., the hubby and I have couples therapy over Zoom. Having dedicated space to talk through things like our communication styles, family budget concerns, and living in a dual artist household is really vital. Today, we focus on how we can better show our support for each other. I just found out about my play getting a production in New York City, and I really need verbal and physical validation: This is awesome and big.
Then comes the best part of my day. I stop for coffee (that I really should not keep buying) and drive to work (#3) while listening to some intense, dark, smutty romance audiobook. Today it’s God of War by Rina Kent.
I arrive at work and go right into planning my two classes. Once that’s sorted out, it’s on to prepping the rehearsal schedule for today’s forty-five minute rehearsal for our fully Hebrew production of You’re A Good Man, Charlie Brown.
The rest of the day goes by pretty quickly. We don’t get to half the things I wanted to work on during rehearsal, but the kids have fun. I drive back home with Butter (she attends Hebrew school on Mondays and is driven the forty-five minutes there by our intrepid nanny) and arrive to freshly grilled burgers. Yay, summer!
After the kids go to bed, I jump right onto a call with a potential director for the New York production of my newest play happening this summer. We hit it off great, and I think she’s a perfect fit. By 9:30 p.m. I’m ready to fall on my face.
Tuesday
My 6:00 a.m. wake-up call hurts my brain. I just want to sleep! But there is no time. Coffee, cottage cheese, clothes. I quickly kiss the kids goodbye and run out the door.
I hate the morning traffic to my job (#1). The two-hour commute on Tuesdays and Thursdays kills me, especially since it’s so disproportionate to the actual distance. One upside: more time for audiobooks! Downside, I wish I had more coffee.
The second-to-last stage management class of the semester feels like whiplash. Did I teach enough? Did we cover everything? Did I give this engaged and prepared group of students my best? I am not sure. Failure feelings seep in. I remind myself that I am a part-time faculty member, and with all the other jobs, not everything is going to be perfect.
By noon I’m back home and nearly forget that we have a virtual appointment with Butter’s neuropsychologist to go over her new Individualized Education Program (IEP). And my head is pounding.
At 1:00 p.m. I see my long-term therapist virtually. It always makes me feel better.
Just before I run out the door to drive back into the city, our nanny returns home from picking up Jelly at preschool. He didn’t think he’d get to see me and the look of surprise on his face when they pull into the driveway and see my car is priceless. Our nanny reminds me that she’ll be making the kids lunches this week and not to stress.
I arrive at the theatre at 4:00 p.m. and get right into it. I’m excited to be back at this annual festival gig.
Around 10:30 p.m., my deck manager is a total gentleman and walks me to my car, since I’m parked in a weird alley. Driving home, I call my parents, who I haven’t spoken to in days, and they help me stay awake with silly stories about all the things I’m missing back in my hometown.
I am so excited to get in bed and eat my mint chocolate chip Yasso bar, in bed, like a boss.
