Stupid-Crazy School Year Schedule

Loyal readers, I must tell you the reason that I have not been blogging much lately.  It is because I have lost something very special to me.  It is a loss that has reverberated very strongly throughout my life, my husband’s life, and my children’s life.  And that thing I’ve lost is my sanity.

Seriously.  I lost it somewhere between the first day of school and now, and it is not anywhere—not in my kids’ backpacks, not in my 52 jars of jam, not in the bananas, not in the week-old sandwich that has been stinking up the car, and certainly not anywhere on my person.

The schedule I’m keeping now that school is in session feels like one of those mathematical puzzles you have to do on your SAT’s where the oldest boy has martial arts two days of the week, the middle boy has swimming one day and soccer on the following day; one child needs to be picked up from the bus stop at 4:00 every day except Wednesdays; the other needs to be picked up at sometimes 12 and sometimes 1 on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays; the youngest child needs to nap for 40% of every day; on the second day with martial arts there is also a before-school appointment; and there is one floating doctor or dentist appointment every week.  Now use this information to work out a family schedule and don’t forget to include the periodic table.

Seriously again!  This morning, for example, the boys got up at 7 and there was a half hour of craziness getting them fed, dressed, brushed, hugged, clothed, shod, and backpacked before we left for speech therapy at 7:40.  During that half hour I also realized I have physical therapy today and was scrambling to get a babysitter and rework the schedule to include it.  After speech therapy we rushed Vincenzo to school, then Rocco to school, me remembering to write notes for both of them to let the schools know about the change in pick-up plans.  Then I dropped Leo off at his grandparents’ house, came home, paid a bill, did dishes, got ready for physical therapy, set up a fruit fly trap, and left.  It was 10AM.

It is just a matter of time before I get a call from the boys’ school saying to come pick my child up because I sent him to school not wearing any pants.

I actually remember—often at the last minute—about 80% of the things I’m supposed to do every week.  The problem is there are about 152 things to do every week so mistakes are made, and the mistakes hit me hard.  I am not a forgiving person when it comes to myself.  I come home to voice messages from the carpet people saying, “We’re in front of the house…looks like you’re not here…”  Or I panic at 9AM because I have a PT appointment I forgot about in 30 minutes so I text my MIL, who drops everything and comes over, and just as she pulls up I realize the appointment is actually tomorrow. 

It is very unsettling to be me, to not know what messages I will come home to, what things I have forgotten that are on the schedule, what things I am forgetting to schedule for next week.  I have many systems to help but right now they are all failing.  This has made me VERY cranky.

I feel like I am living in an unstable country run by a volatile, unpredictable, wild-eyed dictator who also just happens to be Me.  I am thankful that the country is also full of people like my husband, my in-laws, my parents, my friends, and a bunch of other people who are much more forgiving of myself than I am.

Because if it wasn’t full of these people there would just be me and I would have to stage a coup against myself, and then I would forget it was on the schedule and not show up for it, and I would be stuck under my own rule for an indefinite amount of time.

We don’t want that now, do we?

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