Because I have so much time on my hands...

Errr, what? haha, seriously? not so much. I have a lot of things on my hands, like sweet potatoes, baby vomit, toddler boogers... but no time. Time is of the essence. Time is money. Money is time. Time is Tim with an e. Ime with a t. it's... wait, what was the point of all this? oh Right. so. I've been doing a bit o' creative writing in all my gallons of spare time. And since I have no shame, i'm going to post it here. Enjoy!

I call this- The Fat Woman Speaks.

Chapter One

Suck it in, suck it in, suck…it…IN!!!! I held my breath in the grand hope that the bloody button would squeak through the button hole on these, the last possible pair of dress pants I had flung out of my closet to wear. With 5 down, losers to the button battle, these were my last hope and they were so very very close, if I could just suck it in a little more….DONE! yes! Oh please, I thought to myself, get me through this day without popping the button or splitting the ass out. Wouldn’t that just make for a triumphant return to work; “Here I am!! Rock you like a Hurricane!” Riiiiiiiiip. Hello pink undies. Yeah…no thanks. I’d prefer to fly a bit more under the radar, I’ll save the panty show for the Christmas party.

Grabbed the matching jacket, thankful I could wear it unbuttoned, there being no hope of even attempting to button that sucker up, and proceeded into my bathroom. Mascara, check. Foundation, check. Lipstick, check. Wowsa, that’s more makeup than I’ve worn in a year, I’m startled by how long my eyelashes are! I tentatively squatted down (waiting for the tell tale rip that did not materialize) and gazed into the deep abiss beneath the vanity. Somewhere, back there, in some deep recess in the back, was my hair dryer. Unused for a year, it had laid in wait for it’s time in the sun again. I spot a suspicious looking cord, grabbed it and yanked. Sweet, there it is!! A might dusty, but should still work. Now…how do I turn this sucker on again?
Grabbing my hairbrush, conveniently rescued from the Cabbage Patch kid hair salon down the corridor, and set to work, trying in vain to duplicate a hairstyle I had just seen the other day in “People”. Side sweep, flipped up ends, gloriously shinning. Yup, that was the picture, and not me! I risked a glance in the mirror, and decided it would do. There were no cheerios, no suspicious wet blops of white goo, better than I’d managed in a while!

I glanced down at my watch and almost choked. Shit, that had taken longer than I had remembered, now I’m running disgustingly late! I grabbed my lipstick thinking to reapply during the day, and bolted. I gracefully dodged the toys and dirty clothes laid in a complex pattern on the stairs and managed to arrive whole at the bottom. Three faces turned to greet me from around the kitchen table – and two of the three had eyes shining with tears. Seeing this made reality finally sunk in. Today was my first day back at work after my daughter, Charlotte, had been born a mere year ago.

“ok, how are we doing for prep?” I asked my husband, who, thanks to his disgusting ability to bounce out of bed in the morning, had gotten up with the kids so I could get ready in peace.
“Breakfast is done, bags are by the front door”, Brad responded. I glanced about and mentally checked off items on my to-do list. Purse, keys, cell phone, lunch bags, shoes…yup, so far so good. As I walked past my family on the way to the sink I ran my hand through my daughter’s hair, which had just started to curl at the nape of her neck. In a few months it would be long enough for a pony tail. This thought caused me to miss a step - I was momentarily frozen with the realization that I might not be the first to put her hair in a pony tail – what if the day care teachers thought to do it first? Shaken, I reminded myself that if I let myself dwell on my fears and mommy guilt any longer, I would end up a puddle of tears on my (rather unclean) ceramic floor.

Agonizingly, I gave myself an internal talking to; “Not now Jones, get a hold of yourself!” Reaching the sink, I filled up my water bottle and grabbed a banana to eat on the way into work. “Alright kidlets, lock and load!” I put an extra sparkle and dazzle in my voice and face as I rounded the kids up and herded them out of the house, hoping it would fool them into seeing this all as a grand adventure, and not as the end of all that was right in their world. Not that I’m overly dramatic or anything of the kind.

Connor grabbed his backpack, and tossed Charlie’s in an overhand throw to me. “Connor, PLEASE do not throw things in the house!” I reminded him for what felt like the gazillionth time, inwardly cringing when I realized I had just yelled at my son one the very first morning he’d ever be without me. I unbuckled Charlie from her highchair, plopped her on my hip and made my way to the door. I turned around the blow a kiss at Brad, when I noticed the confused look about his face. “What’s wrong?” I questioned. “Dear, I think it might be a good idea if the kids wore clothes instead of pajamas to daycare, but I could be wrong…” Brad tease. Ugh! So much for my seamless exit. I can’t believe I almost left the house without getting the kids dressed!

In the car, the kids were in good spirits. Connor was making up silly verses to “Wheels on a bus” that had Charlotte in endless giggles. I kept sneaking peaks at them in the review mirror, trying my hardest to embed this moment in my memory for all times. Too soon we reached the day care centre, the one which I had painfully decided on after weeks of interviews and applications…and waiting lists. Seems I wasn’t the only one going back to work this month.

I pulled up to the parking lot, and got the kids out of the car and to the door. I was a bit uncertain as to what to do next. Do a quick pass off and run, hoping nobody would see me while I bawled my eyes out in the parking lot, or risk the breakdown in the kids classroom? My decision was made for me when Connor grabbed my hand and pulled me in. So much for preserving some of my dignity.

1 large coffee and 2 travel size packages of Kleenex later, I arrive at my office. My new office, as I had only been hired a month ago. I parked, hoping I had remembered the parking pass they had supplied me last week.
“Take a deep breath, chin up, shoulders back, stomach(es) in, smile one, you can do this Jones, You can do this!” was my continuous monologue while the elevator whisked me upstairs. One big step off the elevator and there I was – once again part of the workforce, working for da man. My second step was accompanied by….RIIIIIIIP! oh shit.