I just made a list of about 20 dumb “mom chores” that have to happen this morning (sign up Ian for computer class, pay the YMCA, picture day forms) and “general home chores” (buy butter, find out what happened to the security deposit from the summer house rental).

At 11:00, I have to go to see the dentist, aka Dr. Hands. He likes to run his hands through my hair before checking out my teeth, as he talks about his fetish for Debra Messing. I really need to add “find a new dentist” to my to-do list.

Behind me, Jonah is printing out pictures for a poster for his English class. Why is a junior in high school making posters, instead of a Powerpoint presentation? I’m not entirely sure. Add “switch English classes” to the list.

And in the midst of all this, I’m slowly learning how to write a weekly article, instead of writing whenever the spirit moves me. The editor and I are working out a rhythm. I’m attempting to keep the work out of the weekends. Right now, I’m waiting for her to edit a piece that I finished on Monday afternoon. If she doesn’t wrestle control of this essay away from me soon, I’m going to keep inserting zombie metaphors.

I keep meaning to read this article from Anne-Marie Slaughter’s husband about he had to be the primary parent, while Anne-Marie concentrated on her job. Yes, there is such a thing as a lead parent (see the first three paragraphs of this blog post.) But it’s entirely bizarre that the Slaughter-Moravcsik family is being used to describe the tensions and dilemnas of typical American families. “Sorry, dear, I can’t make dinner for your parents on Sunday, because I have to fly to Washington to appear on ‘Face the Nation’.” And it’s really weird that this guy who works at Princeton (Princeton! Tenure!) is whining about career sacrifices. It’s like when Gwenyth Paltrow talks about the fun of shopping for bargains at Barney’s.

Well, my procrastination moment has ended. Jonah needs a ride to school with his poster, and I have to go meet Dr. Hands. Shudder.