It's No Wonder I Don't Have Time to Date

I changed my mind yet again about the whole dating thing. I hid both of my profiles on both of those sites last night. Obviously, I'm not ready for this. Every other day I change my mind about the whole thing and I'm like, hell yeah, I can do this. And then, 11.8539 hours later, I'm like, what the fuck was I thinking? I don't have time for this bullshit. This has been and will be my schedule since this past Saturday into the near future.

Saturday - Football game at 9:00am, which means we are supposed to be on the field at 8:30. But I stayed up til 2:00am chatting on the computer, so I was still trying to pimp my curls and stuff out at 8:30 that morning because I was running late. And then I had to stop for a super-sized Coke on the way there. Arrived at the field at 9:05 with the children, snacks for the younger daughter's cheerleading team, bookbag with older daughter's playdate birthday party clothes in it, folding chair and also a bacon biscuit. I didn't even care at this point, because I was exhausted in that exhausted kind of way that makes you feel slightly still drunk and yet hungover at the same time. Yelled at the cheerleaders to be louder and ate my bacon biscuit. Yelled so loud even some of the football coaches came to attention. Stayed through older daughter's game, chatted with her teacher from last year, glared at The Ex and sent older daughter off with her little friend for the playdate birthday party. I brought the younger daughter home and then promptly took her to my mother's to spend the night because I had a camping-beer drinking kind of thing to go to. Came home, and tried to take a nap, but got sucked into texting and then blew off the camping-beer drinking kind of thing because I really just didn't want to go and run into my emotional cancer. You never know who might show up at these things. 

Sunday - Slept in and then went to my mom's to get the children, who at that point were acting like they had smoked a whole lot of crack because my mother encourages bad behavior. But since she babysits pretty much whenever I need it, I have to just go with it. Rush home and get everyone squared away for cheerleading pictures. We go rushing off to cheerleading pictures and I call The Ex to see if he's going to come and purchase his own pictures. Nope, he's got something else to do and can I just purchase picture packs for him and he'll pay me back. No, motherfucker, I can't. Too bad for you. Have cheerleading practice after the pictures and these girls are NOT going to be ready for the exhibition next week. I don't even know if I care at this point, I'm so burned out on cheerleading. Rush home from cheerleading to do weekend homework and Monday homework because it's elementary school skate night and Mommy has to go to skate night. Clean the house and discover the cat has peed on the carpet in my bedroom. Apparently this is one of those pets that gets randomly pissed off and shares it on the carpet. 

Monday - Oh my god, I made it to work on time. Rush out of work, get the children so we can rush home, eat dinner and get to skate night. Oh, hell, the older daughter got in trouble at school today. She apparently found the one child in her class with the last name of Lassiter and made it a point to explain to him that the word ass is in his last name. So she had to write a letter to the teacher explaining what she did was wrong and that she told her mom about it. I texted The Ex and asked him to call to discuss the matter with her. Oh, he's busy and can't call, he texts back. Uh, can you make a fucking exception? No, he'll call later. Dick. Make her write the letter and just for good measure, make her write another letter to her classmate apologizing for this. Discuss with her that she needs to start minding her own business and I am secretly relieved that the other child's last name is not Dickerson. But all this fucking letter writing means that we're running late for skate night, dammit. I'm not paying money for me to skate for one hour, so I stand around and watch. I almost died when they played the Hokie-Pokie, because this is how I broke my wrist two years ago. I was showing off for my daughter at a skating birthday party, and it was not a pretty fall. I imagine that to someone on the edge of the rink, it probably looked like someone had just flung a dead body out onto the skating rink, because that's the force with which I hit the floor.

Tuesday - I cancelled my training class because fuck it, I don't need to know that shit. I've got my training hours in for the year. Text the older daughter's cheerleading coach and FUCK! We've got cheerleading practice tonight for her. I am so sick of cheerleading practice I don't even know what to do. Rush out of work, get the children, rush home, take off those itchy pantyhose and cram dinner down the children's throats, and off to cheerleading practice. Rush home for homework.

Wednesday - Rush around in the morning trying to pack lunches, pack the older daughter's cheerleadingbookbags and get myself squared away. Get to daycare, try to draw Mr. So-and-So into some bullshit conversation about something. Because I've seen his profile on one of those dating websites and I know he's seen mine, because he hasn't figured out how to hide that he's looking at someones profile like I have. Damn, too many kids running around. Get to work; crazy day there. Decide to cancel younger daughter's cheerleading practice at the last minute as only one coach will be there and one coach can't teach the dance routine. Rush to pick up younger daughter and find out that older daughter dropped the f-bomb on another child that morning. Are you fucking kidding me? I'm blaming this on her father. Text The Ex to tell him, he says he'll call to talk to her later. It's almost 11:00pm and he hasn't called yet. Dick. Rush to McDonald's to get the younger daughter dinner and rush off to the football game to watch the older daughter cheer. Thank god for the older daughter's cheer coach picking her up this afternoon, feeding her dinner, getting her changed and getting her to the game, otherwise she would have been LATE. Oh my god, we finally found a team we could beat. They must really suck. Stand around chit-chatting with the divorced dad who does the concession stand with The Ex and am pleasantly pleased that the moisture and football coach testosterone in the air only accentuates my curls. Why didn't I go curly years ago? It's late and my hair still looks HOT AS SHIT. I rock heels and curls. At the football game, no less. Rush home right after the football game to get homework done and address the f-bomb. Spank because I believe in corporal punishment for severe offenses and this was a severe offense. It's not against the law, and those seven licks she got (one for each year of her life) were pretty tame to the point I was trying not to giggle. But she knows this is the punishment and I know that Mommy must follow through.

Thursday - Work for me, school for the children, cheerleading practice for all of us, homework for some of us. The older daughter has a science test on Friday, so I'll be doing a review of the worksheet with her while I'm driving us all around, since that's really a safe way to drive.

Friday - The Ex's weekend begins, thank god, and I might get my nails done. Or I might not. All depends, and on what I'm not saying.

Saturday - Cheerleading on Saturday morning, helping my mother's husband do a catering thing in the afternoon. I insisted that I be the drink person because I'm pretty sure my sparkling personality and super cute hairdo can draw some drunk motherfuckers in to buy copious amounts of food at this wine festival he's catering, and because a hair net makes me look not-so-hot. Saturday night is up in the air. I feel some TV time coming on. All depends. The Ex will be running around willy-nilly dropping both children off at various birthday parties. I don't feel sorry for him. I will probably work on the older daughter's pumpkin project on this day, too, because yes, I do some of her projects for her.

Sunday - Older daughter's cheerleading competition at 10 something in the morning, but The Ex needs to have her at the competition site at 8:15. That sucks for him. I plan on rolling in at about 9 something. Cheerleading practice at 4-ish, let's hope these girls show up because they have to know this dance routine. Sunday night we start all over.

Monday - I work late at work, so my mother will pick up the children, bring them home and instead of feeding them dinner and doing homework in an orderly fashion, she will let them smoke crack. Not really, but that's what it seems like every Monday night that I have to work late.

Tuesday - Cheerleading practice for the younger daughter. Last night to prepare for her exhibition. This is also the day I need to have 25 fall-themed plates and napkins in to the older daughter's teacher for their fall party.

Wednesday - Younger daughter's cheerleading exhibition that night. Did I mention I'm over cheerleading?

Thursday - There is no way we're having cheerleading practice, simply no way. I'll kill myself.

Friday - Rush around and finish off the Halloween costumes. The older daughter is going to be a cowgirl and the younger daughter is going to be a ballerina witch.

Saturday - I have a wedding party kind of thing to go to. I'm going alone because I'm hoping some hot single guy will be there. The children have an end of cheerleading season party, and I've arranged to have The Ex and his girlfriend go, because that will make him the fucking hero. I need to chip in the cake, though, and that means I will need to have remembered to pre-order the damn thing before Wednesday.

Sunday - My busiest workday of the year - Halloween. I'm not saying why. Get the children squared away, off to The Ex's for trick-or-treating, and that will make him the fucking hero because Mommy has to work on Halloween. Whatever, I've taken the last five Halloweens off and it's my turn to get busy out there. The children are spending the night with him, so he'll really be the hero. I'm excited about being alone on a Sunday night after work. Mad Men.

The Monday after that - Teacher workday, parent-teacher conferences and the older daughter's annual eye doctor appointment, which means I am taking the day off. I am not looking forward to these conferences because guess who is going to be there? Yep, dickface. And he's going to sit there and act all concerned and involved and like the father of the year that I know he's not. Did I mention it's now 11:13pm and he still never called to discuss the whole f-bomb thing? It's at times like I know the parent-teacher conference that I want to look at him, or the teacher, and explain that one of the benefits to me leaving him is never having to look at his small penis again.

Tuesday - Another teacher workday, so unless I want to pay extra money to Mr. So-and-So, I need to find someone to watch the children that day. Fabulous. Maybe I can get the parents of Mr. Small Penis to watch them.

I could go on and on, but my calendar is in the car and does it really matter?  It's no wonder I don't have time to date.