This is a flashback to what my summers looked like a couple of years ago, before I decided to simplify…
This week’s schedule demands an 8:30 a.m. departure, with stops at Swim Camp, Science Enrichment Camp and Princess Camp.
If you’re wondering why they don’t all go to the same camp to simplify things, well, so am I.
The mom bus leaves again for pick up of the first two campers at 11:30 a.m., giving me approximately one hour and 40 minutes to relax. Relax (in mom speak) means to walk the dog, begin the trek up Mount Washmore, and maybe, if time allows, slurping down coffee.
“Someone is going to discover me collapsed face down in a parking lot somewhere,” I told my husband last night. Or he’ll find my body buried deep beneath the pile of dirty towels and swimsuits, overcome by the stench of chlorine.
I think I’m overdoing it. My life, that is, not just that last paragraph. I’m so tired. There’s so much to do still. There are so many details. I’m sweating the small stuff, because the small stuff has banded together and seems to be chasing me through life. It’s as if each detail missed has come to life in the form of a lost sock, rising up from the invisible lair behind the dryer, banding together with the strength of the static (cling) in my mind. This giant sock monster of details lost, mismatched and smelly, pursues me, haunts me, torments…
Where was I?
“I just can’t keep track of everything lately. I need a personal assistant, “ I whined, exasperated, as I tried to explain to the camp director why I didn’t have my daughter’s heath form yet, begging her to have mercy and refrain from banning my child from camp grounds just because I am a flake in need of fresh frosting.
“You need a wife,” joked a wise mama that stood nearby. “YES! That is exactly what I need! Someone to wash my clothes and cook my food, make sure all the details are taken care of for me…” Huh. Oh well. I’m not going to go any further with that one.
I think I’m too busy. Maybe no one else can see it, but it’s true. I think that’s why I can’t keep it all together. I was always on time, in control and organized in the BC years. Those would be the years before children. I’m not ancient, you know.
I suppose it is a slight possibility that I’m too uptight and I need to stop caring so much about all the little details of life. How does a mom do that?
What are your summers like? Are you too busy? When do you say enough already, I’m taking a nap? Share some sanity in the comments section and I’ll check back right after I triumph over Mt. Washmore.