As morning screams through the window of the bedroom, she groans, cotton-mouthed, into the puddle of drool on her pillow.

Peeling herself from her sheets, she looks to be hung over on sleep. Her eyes barely register the alarm clock or the upset cat that stretches from his nest of dirty laundry on the foot of the bed. 

Her hair is a mess, barely tied in a bun at the back of her head--fly away hairs escape in each direction. She rolls out of bed with a yawn in grubby sweats that beg to be nestled beneath a blanket with a cozy side of Netflix.

​"Coffee," her sleep-drenched voice cracks out, but is it a question or a demand?

The coffee has kicked in and he knows it by the extra jolt in each harried step he takes down the boulevard. He dresses in a pressed, straight-lined suit and is sure about each movement he makes and every moment of his day.

He is alert and ready for anything. He moves about in razor sharp movements, each ounce of energy expended is budgeted. He is direct as he gives straight forward directions on his cell phone. So assured of himself and his day, that he multi-tasks with no problems as he grabs his coffee to-go cup before disappearing in a cab.

There is no missed stair, unaccounted for crack, unseen curb, or stray action from a pedestrian in his path. No sir. He is prepared today. 

Today he can take on the world.

She is a mother, juggling all the daily activities and appointments.

She moves in and out of the family mini van, her arms always loaded with bags, groceries, and errands. By now she has cleaned all the bathrooms, done eight loads of laundry, has thrown dinner in the slow cooker, taken Fluffy for a grooming (and at least three walks around the well manicured lawns of her neighborhood) and has dropped the oldest child off at violin practice.

With her stomach clawing for a warm meal and her nerves craving a glass of wine, she continues her harried day with a smile plastered on her face.

​As she watches the twins play soccer from the sidelines, handing out sticky, juicy orange wedges from a plastic baggie that she had prepared earlier that day, she relishes in these few moments of yelling, screaming, from the inside out.