The text came in as the water on the stove began to boil. I swiped away the timer set for five minutes from the lockscreen and read my daughter’s message. It was 12:48 p.m. on a school day.
“I don’t wanna be here bruh” with an emoji of praying hands. “Come get my ahh I wanna go home (nothing important to do and I want a nap and also sad,” followed by a yellow face emoji sadly looking down, the way only five lines in a circle can.
My 14-year-old daughter uses emojis as punctuation just like I do.
I added the cup of oats to the boiling water and replied, “daddy and I cant get you right away … maybe in an hour? You completed everything?”
I refuse to use proper grammar when I can get away with it.
I’m not “working off the clock,” followed by a yellow cat face emoji crying itself sideways.
She knows I know she took standardized tests all day Monday, Tuesday and today. Well, at least until about a quarter to 1 p.m. She’s smart, earns straight A’s and is becoming more self-aware of her developing social and emotional wellbeing.
Stirring the oatmeal as it thickens over low heat, I wait for my husband, Russell, to return from his basement office.
“That’s fine, yea everything is done,” she texts.
“ok ill talk to him when he gets out of his meeting,” I respond as Russell enters the kitchen.
The coffee pot sings its siren song for my second cup of the day. I wonder whether I will make it to jiu-jitsu class in a few hours. Perhaps, if we pick up the kids, we can all rest beforehand.
Inevitably, I will crash and possibly take a nap. Just like my daughter.
Russell adds milk and sugar to our coffees as I crack three eggs and let their yellow yokes spill onto the pan to fry in butter. As the whites of the eggs turn brown from the heat, Russell checks the kids’ real-time report card.
Our 12-year-old son managed to pull his grades up to 80s and above by turning in assignments. We tell him he would have 90s and above if he simply did the class and homework.
The school year is coming to a close, and Russell and I have already decided to pull them from public school. Georgia has an accredited, online high school alternative, and it’s tuition free.
Russell and I finish our breakfast, he picks up his travel mug, and heads to the school as I sigh.
“There goes my quiet work time,” I think.