Epilogue

My morning now goes something like this:

6:00 a.m.: Wake up to iPhone alarm, roll over, smell a kid’s head, hit Snooze.

6:30 a.m.: Drink coffee and stare at kids jumping on furniture.

6:40 a.m.: Hold myself back from micromanaging the kids making their own breakfast.

7:00 a.m.: Get picked up by Sixto car pool. My kids are the whole car pool.

7:02 a.m.: Marre and Katie teach me to understand Snapchat.

7:30 a.m.: Drop off Marre at her high school on Eighty-Fourth Street. Remind her to take her “Women Helping Women” bag, and say “I love you.”

7:37 a.m.: Drop off Katie at her middle school on East Eighty-Second Street. Remind her to take her Box of Sox drive bag, and say “I love you.”

7:40 a.m.: Cross Central Park on Seventy-Ninth Street, down the West Side Highway to Chelsea, read a book with Michael and Patrick about zombies eating brains.

7:55 a.m.: Get dropped off with the three boys, take Jack, Michael, and Patrick into school early to help sort the Lost & Found for the Zero Waste Initiative.

8:10 a.m.: Hug Jack good-bye (in front of all his middle school friends), then do “Kissing Hands” with Michael and Patrick.

8:11 a.m.: Yell “I love you” to the boys, loudly and embarrassingly.

8:30 a.m.: Text Jim the emoji with the two heart eyes.

The sprint has begun to get anything at all accomplished in the next seven hours before the kids get home and life can begin again.