Neka Hickmon, 29, lives in North Texas with her husband, Greg, and their children, Cierren, 9, and Paxten, 1 ½, who models for The Campbell Agency in Dallas. Neka works full-time as an engineering project manager for Siemens Logistics.
12am Paxten awakes with demands for a ba-ba (aka bottle). I tell her to ask Da-Da, who grumbles in his slumber to ask Ma-Ma. I get up to retrieve a bottle of milk for a child who is in total violation of the following: a) still taking a bottle b) sleeping with us c) waking in the middle of the night still. On any given morning, the roles are reversed, and I win an additional 10 minutes of sleep.
12:10am Back in bed hoping the next four hours will pass slowly.
4:15am They didn’t. Alarm clock sounds, and I slap the snooze button.
4:30am Three slaps later, Greg gets up to make coffee. I’m supposed to be out the door early (to get home from work early for afternoon family duty). I don’t want to go, so I drag my feet. I have an uninterrupted chat with my husband regarding the day’s activities.
5am Do dishes, pick out Paxten’s clothes, peek in on Cierren’s disaster (I mean room), prepare lunches and any other duties I can think of to procrastinate getting dressed.
5:30am Begin dressing. I really should lay clothes out the night before. Post-second baby, clothes don’t fit like they used to… bah humbug; I throw on whatever fits.
6am "Ma-Ma! Ma-Ma!" Paxten’s up. The child is ruthless and will continue to beckon (loudly) from the bedroom until I address her. Open the bathroom door, "Yes, Paxten." Spend a few minutes smelling her (she still smells like a baby in the morning), kiss her and throw on an Elmo tape.
6:30am Feel bad about leaving my children still in bed, I throw laptop, purse, gym clothes, lunch, coffee and water jug in car and head for work.
7am Arrive at work and office is quiet. Address late-night e-mails and prepare documents and discussions for the day’s meetings while drinking coffee.
8-11:30am Work is in full swing. I’m in and out of meetings. In between one meeting, I receive a call from The Campbell Agency. Paxten’s agent has a job for her the following morning. I text Greg for his availability, and he responds with "we’ll work it out." Since we’re aware that Paxten does better at her modeling shoots with me there, I’m trying to figure out how I can swing it. Attend a few more meeting, answer a few more e-mails, talk a lot … and now exhausted from focusing on technical terms, project deliverables, milestones and budget. Need a break! Perfect time to head to the gym.
11:45am Arrive at gym for a rushed 30-minute cardio workout. Makes me feel better and will hopefully impact my clothes the same.
12:45-4pm Arrive back at work for more of what I do–project management.
4pm Leave work feeling guilty … everyone is still working. Should I though? Most of the people weren’t there when I arrived. Still feel like a loser leaving at 4pm, but I have no choice. Cierren has dance this evening. Oh no … and an orthodontics appointment in the morning that I just remembered. Do I have a meeting at the same time? Check the office BlackBerry. Yep, meeting. Check the personal Treo. Yep, orthodontics appointment. One day I will merge the two lifelines, but as for now … crisis! We’re overbooked yet again.
4:30pm Arrive at Paxten’s school … immediately forget about feeling bad for leaving work at 4. Plus, convince myself that this early schooling will yield a successful career as a brain surgeon. She runs to me smiling and dirty (not smelling so sweet). With Paxten and blankie in tow, we head for home to grab Cierren and prepare her for dance.
4:45pm Arrive home. Oma (my husbands mother) lives with us due to her struggle with Stage IV lung cancer. The house has been empty all day, so she’s eager to talk, talk, talk. She mentions she has an appointment with the oncologist and is wondering if Greg can take her tomorrow. I have to creatively figure out how to tell my husband he needs to be at least two places at one time (not including his full-time job that has been neglected a bit since his mother was diagnosed). Paxten can’t stand not having my attention, so she begins requesting "Up. Up. Ma-Ma" so I do whatever I was doing, holding her.
5pm Cierren’s carpool is at our house to take her to dance. I scream for her to take her coat; she shakes her head and leaves. I have no idea how her day at school was. More guilt. Hoping I can savor the pick up from dance for a moment to catch up with her.
5:15pm Start to cook dinner (don’t really like to anymore); husband jokes about how this was something I did often when we first met. I joke that I used to get surprise gifts from him weekly, too. We’re even! Throw chicken in the oven — nothing fancy, just enough to fill bellies. Paxten needs a snack, and she makes it known in her football-game yell. That child was made for cheerleading. Hmm … marshmallows. Not the healthiest snack but it keeps her quiet, and I can place a few in her play kitchen’s pots and pans. Dual purpose.
7pm Time to pick up Cierren and friends from dance and drop off at respective homes. They laugh and giggle until the final child hops out of the car. I’ve got 15 minutes of dedicated Cierren and Mom time. How was school today? “Good.” What did you do? “Some math work, three digit multiplication.” How was that? ”Easy.” She tells me she needs me to sign some papers as we arrive home.
7:30pm Dinnertime. Greg’s home and Paxten’s day is winding down with the typical evening meltdown complete with tossing food over her high chair.
8pm Homework and Baths
9pm Lights out
10-10:30pm Check e-mails and chat with husband. Fall asleep with TV on and laptop in bed.
