Scene 1: We open at 4:30 am, with Rosie waking up, refusing to go back to bed. She joins us in our bed, and proceeds to flap her little legs and climb onto bodies and eventually kick people in the face until it becomes too much to handle, and oh by the way, there’s Addie and Ben and Theo somehow in bed now too, it’s 6 am, it’s time to get up.
Scene 14: I’m back home at midnight after a 5 and a half hour board meeting. It’s time to write, and wind down with a glass of Writer’s Tears whiskey.
Scene 2: After a long morning of making 6 to 13 breakfasts, and piling the kids into the van, Kendra drives them away, and I proceed to clean the house while listening to a work meeting on headphones.
Scene 13: I’m recording a voice memo the entire time I drive, making up songs and couplets and rhymes while driving on quiet, empty roads near midnight. I keep signing until I open the door to the house. I hope my last note didn’t echo through this quiet house and wake people up.
Scene 3: It’s a lovely work morning. I cry listening to Joyner Lucas, I try to elevate my mindset to plot about co-creation, I respond to slacks and emails.
Scene 12: We’re all a little loopy. The board meeting has reached 11 pm. Gummies were found. We’re finding creative ways to pass and rescind motions to pass business. I have a Time Timer and a triangle with me to help move digressions along, and refraining from dings when the conversation seems sensitive or careful.
Scene 4: After a morning of planning and connecting, I’m getting bowls of leftover stirfry ready for me and Kendra for lunch. We’re hearing Theo tell us stories.
Scene 11: It’s going to be a good meeting, but a long one. Cheesecake and flowers to celebrate team members moving on, while a very long list of business items to pass waits for the celebrations to pass. We’re in the church library, 11 of us, laptops not yet open.
Scene 5: A long walk around the block to try and clear my mind. I’m nervous about the speech I’m giving on Thursday, and about tonight’s board meeting, which I know will be long.
Scene 10: Dinner is wrapped up. Rosie and Kendra are waving goodbye to me as I pull out of the garage. I’ve cleaned up the dishes, Kendra has put the chickens to bed, and is about to put the kiddos to bed, while I head out to start up the meeting.
Scene 6: I’m hoisting bags of chicken feed onto a wheelbarrow and move them from the car into the barn.
Scene 9: Rosie is screaming, because she’s chosen that as her communication style, while I wash dishes, Kendra preps dinner. We finally take seats in our new arrangement at the table. (Recently, Rosie left her highchair, and joined us in a booster seat at the table.) Addie and Ben both wanted her to sit beside them, so those two are responsible for scooping spoonfuls of food into her mouth when she needs help.
Scene 7: It’s an afternoon of work. We’ve discovered our publication has been deleted by Medium.com and scramble to remedy things. We’re planning and prepping for Thursday’s event. For some reason, today on video calls my connection is super glitchy; I’m delayed and stuttering.
Scene 8: It’s time to wrap up day of work and get ready for the night of work. I say “Hey google, turn off the studio lights.” This bank of LEDs was purchased to help light the videos I make, but it turns out they’re great for Canadian-winter-work mood-improving therapy lights. At Christmas I purchased smart plugs and brought our Google Home mini to my office, so when I start and end work, I speak out a command to turn on or off the lights. It’s a dramatic moment. It feels like a movie is starting to film, or that filming has wrapped.