I haven't posted since last decade. . .

. . . which should come as no surprise. "But Rebecca", you say, "you are not even working. You are home all day with a three year old. The inspiration for your blog posts should be endless so you should be writing publish-worthy prose everyday; regaling your readers (all three of them) with witty stories about the life of a preschooler." The reason (excuse) is simply, I've found, because when you are in the forest you can't always see the proverbial trees. When I was a working parent the time I spent with Zoe was minimal compared to today's standard. Therefore, every movement, all the "kids say the darnedest things" moments, and every accomplishment and failure as a parent glowed brighter than the boring Tuesday work meetings at a silly desk job.

Now my job, albeit unpaid, is Zoe; all Zoe All the Time is the company name. The hours are brutal, the pay is lousy and the main client is demanding. But strangely enough, one of the most surprising parts of the new job is that the moments with Zoe are so often, each fails to stand out. My weak analogy is this: If someone on the street were to randomly hand me a thousand dollars I'd think I just won the lottery, look around nervously to make sure I wasn't being followed now that I was carrying such a large sum of money and open a Swiss bank account. Bill Gates probably would act differently.

So, in an effort to always remember each day, carpe diem so to speak, here is a timeline of Zoe and my day.

7:30-8:00am - "Moooommmmy" Zoe is more than capable of hoping out of bed but calls for me to come to, I don't know, escort her downstairs.

8:15 am - coffee in hand I try, usually with great futility, do a quick check on Facebook while I think to myself in my office job this time would have been spent checking important email (who the hell am I kidding, I was checking Facebook then too)

8:45 am - She wants breakfast, toast with peanut butter and "she's a big kid, she wants to help!" I hand her a plastic knife and a piece of bread and watch her cover herself in a peanut buttery mess.

9:30 am- I need a shower (and a whole hell of a lot of more coffee). On goes Barney (which requires a long shower so I don't have to watch it).

10:00 am - What are we going to do today ("mommy! Look at me!)

10:15 am - What are we going to do today, it's freezing cold ("Mommy! I'm going to get you!)

10:30 am - Oh my God, I have to get out of this house ("Mommy! I need a snack)

11:45 am - Off to the indoor play area. A recreation area that can basically is a business based off the fact that they secured a loan to afford more toys than I can. I love it an loath it simultaneously.

1:00 pm - Time to leave, cue meltdown.

1:15 pm - Make lunch. "I want the flower plate. No! The orange flower plate"

1:20 pm - "Mommy, so what's new?" huh?

2:00 pm - NAP! Cue dancing

4:00 pm- Break over "mommy!"

4:30 pm - Playdough time. Or doctor time. Or let's play waitress time. Or coloring time.

5:30 pm - Dinner. Possibly I have something planned. Probably I don't. Pizza, chicken fingers, pasta or. . . no, they are usually the only choices.

6:30 pm - "mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy" "Zoe, what?!" "I love you, you're a nice person." "I love you too, Zoe" "I love you too Rebecca"

7:45 pm - Caillou the creepy, whiny bald boy comes on signally the beginning of the end of my day.

8:12 pm - (Yeah, Caillou on on Demand lasts 27 minutes). Bathtime. Bath is ready, Zoe runs away from me for a half hour.

8:35 pm - Clean, in bed, two books (one at nap, two at bed). "Zoe I have to go now." "No, I need you!"

9:00 pm- 13 hours later, my day is done.


Goodnight, boss. I love you.