It's quite relaxing, really.
You wake up, take the littles to the gym
workout while they play
meet other moms at the park and leisurely watch as the kids continue to play
then take the long way home with the windows down because it's just a gorgeous day
and daydream about putting the kids down for a nap the moment you get home
drive up the driveway and wonder why there's a car in the driveway...
Then it's a mad scramble to get the kids out of the car (who are filthy, by the way. Homeless looking after playing so long and hard) because you recognize that car. That car is the social worker who is coming to inspect your home. The home that you left so nonchalantly this morning (nonchalantly=messy) And you fumble through all explanations as to why you're late, why the kids look homeless and why the house is in it's 'nonchalant' state.
You see, being a flake is a roller coaster of a ride.
There's moments of pure bliss- when I forget what I'm supposed to be doing.
And pure panic- when I finally remember what I was supposed to do an hour ago.
However, I like rollercoasters... only when they're nonchalant.