April!
This is highly embarrassing.
“What have
you been doing, Laura?” you ask.
Well, dear
reader, April seems like a million years ago. But I remember that it quickly
turned into the bedlam of May (consisting of but not limited to year-end
recitals, concerts, plays, readers theatre performances, luncheons, picnics, and
so on). I kept assuring myself, “Once I endure May and all its joyful yet stress-inducing
festivities, I will get back to business and write.”
But May
became June, and overnight we traded school for swim team and other sports. Homework
was replaced with goggles and sunscreen. I created a spreadsheet to remind my
children (oh, who am I kidding; to remind me)
of their daily schedules. (Because let’s be honest, my brain is a sieve. I
cannot retain the details of who has stroke refinement/tennis lessons/baseball
practice when.) “As soon I nail down this summer routine,” I said, “I’ll write.”
Without further
ado June changed into July. Yes, I’m still relying on my spreadsheet, and yes,
it is still preserving my sanity on an hourly basis. My kids and I summarily move
from one game/activity/meet to another, but it recently occurred to me that nowhere
in the dang document did I mark off any time for moi. I mean, we are on the cusp of yet another new month, folks, and
not once this summer have I said, “Oh, look! My trusty spreadsheet indicates
that it’s time for me to grab an hour and do some head-clearing,
soul-rectifying, much-needed writing.” I hang my head and sigh, “I’ll just wait
until August.”
But I know exactly what will shake down next: the
dawn of August means that Rich, my faithful postal carrier, will confer on me hefty
parcels from my children’s three schools. These parcels will contain an abundance
of school supply lists, immunization forms, volunteer sign-ups, parking
instructions, etc. etc., and they will demand a great deal of my time and
attention. In the blink of a very tired eye, I will be sucked into the vortex
of back-to-school readiness and anticipation. (How do moms who work full-time
do it all?!) And August will become September.
Do you see
where I’m going with this?
My friend
Sarah totally gets it. We meet each other for breakfast every month or so, and she’s
had the same mantra for years. “Things will never change,” she says, with
remarkable calm, as we sip our coffee. “Never.”
I guess she’s
right. As long as we have kids under our roof, our lives are destined to be
this harried and overly abundant, aren't they?
Assuming
this is the case, I’m already thinking about my next spreadsheet. It will be
for September, and it will be good. There
will even be some columns and rows devoted to yours truly.
If I could
only find the time to put it together.
