The Art of Juggling The Hot Mess Express

The line between art and survival is often thin, and for me, it’s the latter that fuels my days. From dawn to dusk, I am a whirlwind of activity, with only coffee, hope, and prayer to sustain me. I hardly sleep, spending most of my nights staring at the ceiling, replaying the events of the day. Every detail is scrutinized, every misstep replayed a hundred times over. I am constantly striving to improve myself, to do better tomorrow than I did today.

My mornings are a blur of frenzied activity, as I rush to get out the door. I throw on my uniform from yesterday or the day before, too busy to worry about laundry. My coffee is a lifeline, a precious commodity that keeps me going through the long hours ahead. As I rush out the door, I am already forgetting something, a nagging feeling that will haunt me for the rest of the day.

The workday is a constant stream of activity, with little time for rest or contemplation. By 9 a.m., I’d already hit the coffee machine at least four times, the bitter elixir fueling me through the endless tasks that await. I’ve named the machine “Kathleen,” the mean caffeine machine, since it seems to hate me for no apparent reason.

As the day wears on, I am pulled in every direction, with little time for myself. I am always on call, always ready to help, to lend a hand to those in need. It’s a frenetic pace, one that never seems to end on time. Even as I’m about to leave, someone always stops me, needing something or wanting to chat. I guess I’m just popular – or maybe I’m just too accommodating.

As I wrap up my workday, I am reminded that there is a lot more work waiting for me at home. I hurry back home with a sense of urgency, knowing that there are little people and pets that rely on me. Once I arrive home, I take a moment to catch my breath, and sometimes that moment lasts longer than I realize. It’s as if I enter a “Zoned-out mode” where I completely lose track of time and space. I cannot fully explain what this is, but it feels like an out-of-body experience, and it’s a much-needed break from the hustle and bustle of the day.

During my mental escape, I often find myself transported to a tropical beach, with the sun warming my skin and a refreshing drink in hand. It’s a blissful moment of peace and tranquility. However, my peaceful thoughts are quickly interrupted by the harsh reality of the frozen tundra that I live in. As I snap back to reality, I can see my breath as I step out of my truck, and I can’t help but ask myself why I live here, given that I have never been one for the cold.

Once I regain my bearings, I try to engage my children in thought-provoking conversations about their day. However, it often feels like pulling teeth, and the responses I get are often limited to “yes,” “no,” or “I don’t know.” Even open-ended questions fail to produce the desired responses, and the shoulder shrug is all too common. It’s a frustrating experience, and by the end of it, I am usually exhausted and defeated.

After dinner, I face the daunting task of cleaning up the chaos that’s taken over my home. Dishes and laundry pile up, and the pets demand attention. It’s a busy and demanding time, but I try to muster the strength to keep going. However, I soon realized that I was running on fumes, and I had only enough energy to get through the bare minimum. Once the kids are in bed, I face a tough decision; clean up or go to bed. I try to tidy up, but my energy levels are so low that I only manage to do it for ten minutes before I realize I should have been in bed hours ago. The panic sets in, and I know that I have to get some rest.

My mind repeatedly tells me that “rest is for the wicked,” or “hey, you can sleep when you are dead.” I muster the last remaining energy, planting myself firmly on the couch. This is where my husband often finds me. He explains to me that sleeping on the couch is not a great idea. I am not one to be woken easily so God bless his soul. I angrily protest, dragging myself to the bedroom, ending my day. As I drift off to sleep, in a dark and twisty way. I find excitement in knowing the alarm will go off in 2 hours, and I get to do it all over again.