Today was one of those days when I felt like I had a decent handle on life. I won’t go so far as to say I was on top of it all but I was at least pleased that, for once, it didn’t feel like IT was all on top of me. This should have been my first sign.
I got the kids to school on time, gave the dog a decent jaunt and motored to a weight-lifting class taught by an amazing friend who has a quasi-cult following. That, and I managed to do Costco in 20 minutes. Costco - in December - in 20 minutes.
I came home feeling pretty darn chuffed.
Just as I was going over my plan for the remaining hours, a retired dude we met at the dog park texted to say he was taking his overgrown muppet for a sesh and asked if I wanted to join. I didn’t, but had the sense I needed to. Sunshine in winter is a rarity and the dogs played so well together, I hustled to put the groceries away and ran over to meet him.
On my walk home, I mentally laid out the next couple of hours. Have something to eat, heat up my coffee, sit down to write, go get the kids, take them to get Luke’s Christmas present, feed them dinner and Robert’s your father’s brother.
Let me tell you, this was not at all how it all went down and I have only myself to blame.
Shot in Foot #1
Today was the day I finally launched our chore/allowance/restore (some of) mom’s sanity system. I got them each a whiteboard and implemented The Lazy Genius’s Daily Sheets strategy. She actually says someone else told her about it but she can’t remember who, so for the time being, I’ll say it was hers.
Side note: Luke actually thought I came up with it on my own, which is awesome that he thinks I still have that many levels of functional logic.
Second side note: If you want to know how it works, you have to read the actual transcription for this episode. Or I guess, with it being a podcast, your other option is to listen to it.
The system calls for three tasks to be done (without complaint) in return for a small reward. Ellie asked, at 6:30 this morning, why there were no tasks yet assigned. I scribbled some down, including “put away laundry,” neglecting to remember that in order for them to put it away, it would have to be done AND folded by the time they got home. Damn it.
Shot in Foot #2
Tomorrow is their winter concert. There have been no fewer than a million emails from the school in the lead up to this event, including schedules for rehearsals, instructions on appropriate lunches on concert day and required performance attire.
I’m not really sure who I was expecting to handle that last one, but in my mind, it wasn’t me. So, instead of having a nice lunch and heating my coffee, I spent an hour trying to source black dress shoes for a child who assumes uncomfortable clothing is the work of the anti-christ. At the same time, it dawned on me that the younger one would also need to abide by the same dress code. Thankfully, I found a solution at home, provided I buy some black electrical tape tomorrow. Move over, MacGyver, desperation’s got this one covered.
Attempted Shot in Foot #3
I didn’t pull the trigger on this one and, to my credit, I also didn’t make it worse. The kids were acting like feral cats when they got home, launching their own form of psychological warfare with a few well-placed swats for good measure. I mediated as best I could and, by some early Christmas miracle, the tension dissipated.
Shot in Foot #4
The g.d. family advent calendar. This is like Elf on a Shelf only worse because you have to actually do things. Every day. I get an easy win tomorrow with the winter concert but, today, I had nothing. I scribbled down “Christmas craft” and shoved it in the pocket, but by the time we finished eating and had the reward for Daily Sheet success (after-dinner games), there was no time. Bullet dodged.
Shot in Foot #5
Asking children for their opinions on food. On top of the concert, tomorrow is also the deadline for ordering lunches. There’s no way in hell I’m going to remember to do this tomorrow, so I decided to do it tonight and, this time, ask for their opinions. Do I ask for their opinions on what I make for dinner? Breakfast? Rarely. Why a lunch survey seemed like a good plan tonight, I’ll never know.
Me: I’m ordering you lunches. Do you like their spaghetti?
Boy: I like Mac and cheese.
Me: Yes, I know. I’m asking if you like the spaghetti.
Boy: I like the Mac and cheese.
Me: Sure. But do you also like the spaghetti?
Boy: Well… what’s the difference?
Me: One is MACARONI—With Cheese—and the other is SPAGHETTI.
Boy: Oh. Yes, I like that.
Me: (crying on the inside)
On the bright side, for the first time everrrrr, they took their lunch kits to the sink without being asked, they put away their laundry the day it was done, everyone has what they need for the concert and acceptable lunches have been ordered. And look at that. I did get to write, after all. Turns out I actually did have a decent handle on life today, it just wasn’t the version I was expecting.