Freewrite to decompress.

It’s 10:22 p.m. according to my brother’s PC, and I still have nursing school homework to do for my 5-hour class which starts at 8 a.m. on a Saturday, a 30-page philosophy paper to edit for the business, and research to do for a friend’s literary agent hunt. That right there pretty much illustrates the kind of OMG-I-can’t-believe-this-is-my-life, holy-cah-rap-I-should-star-in-my-own–reality-TV-show insanity that I go through every. single. day.

Today, for instance, at 24 weeks pregnant, I looked bangin’, went to the mall to claim rewards points and ended up copping a couple summer outfits for Riley without having to pay. And why? All because I’m always calling NYC. (READ: I have a prepaid cell phone and every time I put money on it, I get points to spend at the mall.)

When I got home, a bomb got dropped on me, as Riley’s latest nanny, who’s been with us all of four days, told me she can’t handle my little guy. I’m still trying to wrap my brain around this, as she’s had six kids and is only 40 years old, aka You should be a pro at this, ma! Plus, you’re not even old enough to be complaining about everything hurting, so WTF?!

She suggested that Joy be Riley’s nanny, and ya know what? Even though I really hate taking suggestions from her (she calls me ma’am but I have the distinct impression she’s not really feeling working for a woman young enough to be her daughter), I ran with it. Why? Because Joy loves Riley and even if she doesn’t know everything there is to know about childcare, I’m confident that her love for him will make her do whatever she thinks is right, and that’s good enough for me. Also? What choice do I have, really? The 40-year-old, Rose, came here thinking she’d be in charge of a newborn, and set her 17-year old daughter to the task of being Riley’s nanny. But, Christine, the 17-year old? She doesn’t know her ass from her elbow PLUS she’s the youngest of six kids and spoiled and doesn’t know how to hold a job. Illustrating this point: The other day, I called her upstairs to have a talk about how she’s doing with Riley, and as I’m speaking, she just leaves the room and goes downstairs. As if I wasn’t talking at all. When she came back, I asked why she did that, and she said matter-of-factly, “I saw a dirty glass so I brought it downstairs.”

Bitch, I don’t care if you saw a dirty hobo about to jack yo mama! I’m your boss and I’m fucking talking to you, dammit. Stay yo ass in its place and pay attention!

I’ve got a backup ready to jump in by June 1st, just in case things don’t work out with these two. I also have a limited amount of patience, work up the wazoo for the editing business, the itch to get more clients before the Spring semester ends in the States, assignments/readings for school, and a bunch of things to get ready for Baby #2’s aka Micah’s arrival. Most days, I feel like I’m ahead of the game and handling it all well. Right now, though, I’m pretty sure Riley’s going to keep Joy up till at least 2 a.m., and I’m trying desperately to get as much work done as possible so I can wake up at 4:30 a.m. and study study study.

In the middle of all this craziness, I’ve decided to try to take my editing business to the next step and to also take my writing up there, too. Thing is, I’m not really sure how to do that with the editing business. And the writing? I’m doing writing exercises and freewrites every day, and that’s helping a lot, but I’m also feeling really spent and exhausted. Between making money, getting high-in-the-sky grades, taking care of the fam, being all domestic, getting my artistic groove on, and keeping my sanity intact, I’m just… spent. And wishing that Rob was here to help out with all this.


Hopefully he’ll be working soon, so at least I won’t have to go as hard at the money-making.


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