This morning I woke up early (Really, I just got up because I didn’t sleep so I figured why not get a start. ) and spent an hour with three calendars in front of me planning our life. Moving and my burgeoning business have shaken everything up and now I have to reconfigure my weeks. It seems every day there are more and more spinning plates and I need to figure out when I’m going to give them each a rotation to keep them all moving at the correct speed. If not, the whole lot comes crashing down.
So I plotted times for writing and then dealing with the business of writing. I set aside time to not only read the 2,387 emails in my inbox, but I also included time to respond and address problems found in said emails. I put in times for laundry and mopping the floor and washing, sorting, folding and putting away laundry. I have bank and post office listed. I have specific times and days for every single thing I could think of including feed the children and clean up after them. It felt good to look at that cute little color blocked sheet. This was going to work!
Then the kids came downstairs and one was covered in a head to toe rash. Add doctor’s appointment to Thursday. Then one reminded me they need money for a field trip. Add get cash to Thursday. Then I fed the cat and realized we were low on food. Grocery shop is Monday. Can I make the cat food last ’till Monday?
This is what happens. This is why I forgot yesterday was a half-day and my daughter had to call me from the school office. The date had changed. We got the note on moving day. I entered it on my wall calendar, which I never saw because I left the house at 8:00 and didn’t return until I’d already missed her. I put it in my phone but I set my phone to silent because I had to (last minute) substitute in my son’s preschool class so I never heard the “ding” for the half-day note. I became “that mom”. The one who leaves their kid on the curb of the school. I am late. I am forgetful. I can’t balance my checkbook correctly, ever. I am very lucky if I shower. I used to be prompt, organized and fiscally sound. Now, I’m a disaster.
I have no system. I can make beautiful color coded weekly plan sheets every week, but until it becomes socially acceptable for me to pin that to my shirt every morning, I fear I will continually drop my spinning plates.
I am not sure how to handle everything I am responsible for and everything I would like to be responsible for. I’ve been asked to do all sorts of amazing things and I never seem to get to them because I am awash in dirty socks and bounced checks. I’m not complaining because I recognize how blessed I am to have the opportunities I do. Thank God I also have pretty well adjusted children who seem to survive my madness daily. Thank God I have a new business that is turning successful in spite of my non-efforts! Thank heaven I have these writing opportunities fall in my lap even if I am neglectful of the networking and PR I should be doing to get and keep said opportunities. I am most certainly not complaining because I think I COULD handle it all. I just need to figure out how.
do know that your version of disaster is someone else's version (achem!) of doing it well. you've also experienced yet another one of life's hardest (read: shittiest) slices of pie – moving. forgive yourself for forgetting or floundering now b/c you are breathing and busy being the pillar on which everyone else depends. that's a huge ass deal, yo. in a few weeks you will notice a rhythm and feel better equipped to spin all those plates and even add some to the collection. you need time to muster again. seriously, i love you and think you're aaaamaaazing for even having a sense of humor in the midst of all that goes on in your world. that alone is tops in my book. (the book i just wrote on your comment section.)
xoxo
i am a disaster as well.
let's start a club.
just don't let me be treasurer.
I like the idea of pinning the color coded chart to your shirt. Perhaps you could some how incorporate it into a piece of jewelry. A whole new line is born:)