If my life this week were an episode of Sesame Street—and it does feel that way, what with the…furry monsters…and schoolwork…and whatnot—the
special word of the week would definitely be “SCHEDULE”. As in “that thing which rules my life”. Or “the item which is absolutely necessary for the sanity of a
Household Manager who prefers to run a tight ship”. However, in this particular case, it also refers to “something that is being messed with by outside forces, who obviously don’t
have the same….compulsion….I do, and who are currently ruining my carefully organized schemes with their
lack of decision making, and/or communication. (What? Doesn’t
everyone make detailed To-Do Lists, and cross things off, and rewrite or
reorder the tasks—sometimes several times in a single day—to more accurately
reflect what might actually get accomplished? Isn’t this totally normal,
average behavior? Yeah, I know…just humor me, will ya?)
Here's the scenario: of course I wanted all of us on Team WestEnders to
jump into life in North Carolina, and pursue interesting activities and new
friends. The boys joined soccer teams
pretty much immediately, and so gained access to their own little sports
fraternities. Then it was my turn to go in search of entertainment, and I found
the walking enthusiasts…the hiking club…the Spanish group…the ASL
conversationalists…and a dance class. (Because, hey, why not fill every spare
minute? I just don’t do boredom very well…) Finally, Husband decided that things
were settled enough (ha!) to sign up for an adult soccer league, so he’s
playing this Spring as well.
And believe it or not, all of this…hoopla…is perfectly
manageable…as long as we have all of the required information to fill out the
Master Calendar and plan properly. That’s where we’re experiencing some…let's call it "not-our-fault
difficulty"…at the moment. You see, Derek has been practicing with his team
since December, and we always know what day, time, and venue. We even have his
games penciled in (mostly…more on that a bit later). The issue is that we don’t have Riley’s team’s
schedule for matches yet—including the one that’s supposedly happening this
weekend. (Yeah, that would be in 2 days...and counting down…)
This means that some days fall into the category of
Crazy-But-Doable, like this evening, when Derek and Riley each had practice starting
at 5:00, but at 2 separate fields, while Husband’s team was meeting at 6:00,
somewhere else entirely. So, I dropped Derek off early, shuttled Riley to his
field (a few minutes late, but whatever), waited for him to finish, then swung
back around to pick up Derek (15 minutes after his session ended, but what can
you do? Without some cool space-age technology, that is…Memo to Me: gotta find
a Transporter…Thingie…like on Star Trek…) Then I raced them home—um “drove slowly
and safely, obeying all traffic laws”…ish—shoved dinner (which I’d assembled
earlier—yay, me) at them, and called over my shoulder as I breezed out the door
to go get my Cardio Funk on, “Bye, guys! Dad should be home in about 10
minutes!”
And keep in mind: that’s the part we can actually handle with…relative…ease.
Tomorrow night, Derek has a game in Raleigh, which Husband offered to cover,
since it might be cold and rainy. (Thanks, dear!) From there, it gets...downright silly.
Saturday morning I’m supposed to get together for my weekly walk with my
fitness buddies at 10 a.m. Derek originally had a match scheduled for 3:00 in
another town about 30 minutes away, (here we go) which conflicted with Husband’s
contest (nearby) at 3:40. No worries—I’d be done long before then, and would simply get Derek to and from his game.
But TODAY for some reason, the time
was changed to 11 a.m. So I can either
stroll with my pals, or see my son play. Dang it! Worse: since the
promised email about Riley’s theoretical game hasn’t arrived, we STILL have no
idea if it’ll be Saturday or Sunday…morning or afternoon….close by or at some
distant location…all of which prevents me from RSVPing to the Sunday 1 p.m. hiking trip
that I wanted to attend. Ohhh, and lest I forget, the weather is predicted to
possibly continue with general drizzly yuckiness into Saturday morning, so
Derek’s match, which takes place on a grass pitch, could be canceled. But...my
walkers will just move into the mall that’s conveniently adjacent to the trail. (Uh
huh, how’s that for inspired? Meander, chat, window shop…stop for coffee…)
Is your head spinning? ‘Cuz mine feels like it’s on a
merry-go-round…and not the fun kind, either. I’m serious—I need a flow chart…or
a Venn diagram…or some such nonsense….to keep all of this straight. Hmm....and possibly an extra Family Chauffeur...and some of that java I mentioned earlier. I don't know about you, but I'm just gonna keep my fingers crossed that everyone arrives at the right place at the correct time--or thereabouts. And if we all make it home for dinner, I'll definitely call it a big old WIN!
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