It’s Another Monday: Meet Anne

It’s another Monday, and I am hopeful I will get back on track after a busy weekend.

Especially with my husband, Rob, away. I have an hour before I pick up my kindergartener, Vivi, to take her to gymnastics. I remind myself to put a snack and her Crocs in with her leotard. I secretly love Crocs. They are just so easy with kids. Luckily, Jude, my seventh grader, can walk home from middle school and fend for himself until we get home. Hopefully, he won’t eat all the snacks meant for lunch.

It’s another Monday, and I am disappointed to miss the Westchester County Moms’ dinner tonight. My sitter’s husband is having an angioplasty (I had to look that up), and my husband has to attend a wake. They are not the “my dog ate my homework” excuses.

Childcare is the hardest part of being a parent. My husband’s job keeps him out of the house for most of the week, with early days and long nights. At least he is retired from the Air Force Reserve, and we don’t have to contend with Uncle Sam. I give military spouses a lot of credit. I manage most family responsibilities, whether by design or default, with varying degrees of success.

As a career fashion stylist, I have been home more than ever due to shifts in the photo industry. The downturn coincided with a (very happy) surprise second motherhood and pandemic and has had me pondering my next move. I keep busy with the occasional shoot, personal wardrobing clients, and other creative endeavors. I am thrilled to write in this wonderful mom-affirming space. I hope my shared experiences as a parent and a human will resonate with my fellow moms and add to the sense of community.

Like many of us, I am active in the PTA and volunteer with my kids’ activities, including running Picture Day. It is nothing short of miraculous to take hundreds of portraits of our precious offspring every year! I read once that 80% of the time you spend with your children happens before they turn 18. This came to mind when I realized it would be better to hold onto our car instead of trading it in, as my son will be driving in less than three years. If you have a 13-year-old boy, you know how scary that thought is! As time gets more precious, I appreciate having a little one.

It’s another Monday, and I had coffee with a friend after drop-off. It was a make-up from last Friday when she canceled, sick with one of the many viruses going around. It felt good to laugh. I zipped back home after we paid the bill to switch the laundry.

I ran out again to meet another friend’s mother, whom everyone calls “Nonna.” I helped her pick out paint colors for every room in her apartment. She prefers bold colors and contrast. “I love drama!” she says in her Sicilian accent. It’s time to paint while she can enjoy it. She sends me home with freshly baked biscotti. “No peanuts,” she tells me. She knows my son is allergic. “And if you’re going to throw away the jar, give it back to me.”

I stopped by the drugstore next to use my coupons before they expired. Strategizing my savings gives me a little hit of serotonin. I wonder, briefly, if everyone feels that little rush when the discounts scroll.

It’s another Monday, and back home after I put my purchases away, I sit down at my computer, ready to write, but I need to approve the latest Girl Scout cookie order. My daughter beat her goal several times over. I mean, we did, with a cute video that I uploaded to Facebook.

Hmmm… what’s this message about a summer academic prep camp? How long has this been here? Well, it doesn’t matter; the dates won’t work. My son will be relieved that I won’t ruin his summer.

I push the lingering anxiety away, and, finally, here I am writing, introducing myself to you and a typical day in my life. It’s just another Monday.

But my mind slowly drifts to the laundry. It’s dry, I remind myself. It can wait to be folded as I type and bite into Nonna’s delicious biscotti.