The alarm clock was blaring on the nightstand beside the bed, Oh, oh it's just another manic Monday! Woah, woah, wish it were Sunday. Pam rolled her eyes and threw her arm over to the nightstand, slamming down on the alarm clock with such a force that one of the buttons she pressed must have been the snooze button because the music instantly stopped, although her hand throbbed from the contact.
Sighing, she stared up at her ceiling for a moment before glancing over at her clock. 6:27. Of course. When was the last time she'd gotten up after 6:30? It had definitely been a few years. At least six, as far as she could remember because Kade had always been an early riser. Now that he was in school, though, he seemed to like to sleep a bit later, which was only the most annoying thing in the world. Why was it that when kids had nowhere to be, they wanted to wake up at four A.M., but when they had somewhere to be, they wanted to sleep as late as they could?
Swinging her legs over the side of her small bed, she squinted as the lights came in through the windows on her apartment, the sounds of honking and New York City hospitality not lost in the seven floors between the roads beneath and her bedroom. Her left foot landed hard on top of one of Kade's toy trucks, and she yelled out in pain. "Shit!" she screamed, her foot flying up as she held it, bouncing around. "Shit, shit, shit." How many times have I told him to pick up his freaking toys.
She opened the door to her bedroom and walked into the hallway, taking a deep breath and enjoying the quiet that only seemed to surround her life between the hours of 9PM and 6AM. Any other time, chaos seemed to engulf her. She opened the door to Kade's room, scowling at the mess all over the floor and flipped on his light switch, a plaque with Darth Vader painted on it.
"Okay, buddy, time to wake up," she said softly, trying to stay cool and collected. He groaned from the bed and squinted his eyes together in a way that made all of her anger over the toy truck fade into the distance.
"Do I hafta?" He asked, burying his face in the pillow and bringing his knees to his chest, his small butt popping out from under the covers. She chuckled lightly to herself as he rubbed his eyes.
"Yep. Get a move on. Your clothes are on the dresser. I want you in them, with both of your shoes on, and your backpack on your back in thirty minutes." He looked at her blankly. "That's one Spongebob," she said, and he nodded, fully comprehending what she had to say.
She turned and left the room, closing the door behind her and racing into her bedroom. She quickly reached into her closet and pulled out the nicest looking suit she owned, throwing it on, hoping to God it still fit. She did not need anything messing up her day today. Today was the most important day of her career. She reached out and grabbed the pin labeled, "Pamela Beesly. Senior Museum Executive" on it and pinned it through her shirt quickly, stabbing herself on accident twice.
Today was the day. The museum had just begun to thrive, and three weeks ago, Paul Grocco's manager, Richard Carlton had called her, telling her Paul was considering her museum to host his new impressionist exhibition. Paul was a favorite within artists' circles, his exhibitions attracting large numbers of fans and tourists. Having one of his exhibitions in your museum was like sealing the museum's fate in gold—Pam knew she couldn't mess this up.
As she buttoned her suit, she stared at herself in the mirror, practicing her lines for the important presentation she had this morning. Paul was stopping by the museum at ten for a lengthy tour, and then they were going to be having a lunch meeting at 11:30 to discuss his options as far as her museum went. If she could land this… Well, things would be a lot better for her and Kade. She'd worked hard on the presentation, but her confidence was still shaking.
She quickly ran a brush through her hair, thankful she'd already straightened it the night before to save time this morning. She grabbed her heels by a finger and ran out the door of her bedroom and over to the kitchen, quickly pulling out a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a jar of jelly for Kade's lunch. This juggling act was so much easier when scumbag was around. Spreading the jelly on one half and the peanut butter on the other, she tried to make the sandwich the way Kade liked it. Three fourths peanut butter, one fourth jelly. Crusts cut off. Diagonal slices. She packed it into the plastic bag and pulled out the potato chips, quickly stuffing them into little baggies.
"KADE!" she yelled up the stairs, her voice already becoming hoarse. Great. Just what I need today. Do Monday's have to always be like this? "ARE YOU READY YET?"
She heard his footsteps on the stairs and she sighed in relief, at least he's ready to come downstairs, stuffing all of the ingredients of his lunch into the Star Wars lunchbox, silently going through the nutritional checklist. Apple, Sandwich, Chips, Drink, Cookie. Check, Check, Check, Check, Check. Good to go.
She turned around, lunchbox in hand, to see Kade standing in front of her, looking almost presentable except for the large tufts of hair sticking up all over the place. She sighed. "Bathroom, now." He walked into the bathroom, his mouth moving a mile a minute as she followed after him, grabbing a hairbrush from the drawer and spraying his hair wet, trying to get it to stay down.
"Mom," he said, and she grunted lightly, trying to get the stubborn tufts of hair down. "Mom," he said again, and she moved to the other side, straightening his shirt and trying to pull his pants up enough that they might not fall down. "Mom, I can't find my shoe!" he said, and she sighed, throwing her hands up in the air.
"Where did you last put it?"
"If I knew that, it'd be on my foot!" He said, exasperated. She would laugh at his answer later, right now, they needed to find those damn light up shoes.
She ran into the living room, looking under the couch and around corners and nooks of the apartment, wondering where the missing shoe could be. Tony, Tony, look around, something's lost that can't be found. She sang quietly in her head, the prayer to St. Anthony that her friend Mary Katherine had taught her years ago chorusing in her head. Where is that freaking shoe?
She glanced at her watch. 7:15. They were already late, and they still had the ten minute trek to school. God, where were those damn shoes.
"Mom! I found it!" Kade came running up, excitement plastered on his face.
"Good, where was it?" She asked, yanking it out of his hand to put it on his foot.
"Hey! I can do it!" He said, and she momentarily forgot that his new 'thing' was showing people how good he could tie his own shoes. Oh God, not today. "It was in my backpack." He said happily, bouncing on one foot. Oh brother.
"Okay, baby, we really need to go…" She said, the third time the bunny had forgotten to go through the hole. "Can I just tie them?"
"Mom, I'm gonna get it!" He said, indignantly, and any other time she would be proud of her son for sticking with it, but right now she was more annoyed. They really had to go.
On the fifth try he stood up and they ran outside to hail a cab to Kade's school. She raced up to the front doors, exasperated by the school's sign in policy. If I'm late getting him to school, why do you think I have time to come sign him in? He knows his name! She pulled at the doors, thinking it was a little strange that she hadn't heard anything from inside the school but perhaps they were all behaving today.
The door stuck, and it was then that she noticed the sign on the door informing her that today was Records Day and that the school was closed.
Could today get any worse?
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