Monday, Monday

It's Tuesday night. Last night, I was in no frame of mind to blog. It had been, quite literally, the day from hell. I have struggled for the past month to etch out a schedule for the kids. I feel like I've turned into a cruise director/shuttle bus driver. I am happy to do it, but it has been tough to get everything scheduled without conflicts.

I had talked last week at Bekah's dance class about switching the class to the morning. It suited me better because we could drop Jeremy off at preschool, go to dance class, kill time and then pick him up again. It would allow Doug to go down for a nap at a reasonable time. It would mean less back and forth to the house.

So I started off getting ready for that scenario. I had to get Jeremy dressed for preschool and Bekah dressed for dance. I don't get up early enough; I fight for every additional minute of sleep that I can. We end up being slightly rushed when it comes to getting ready and out the door. We have a short list of things to do; eat waffles, get out of pajamas, get dressed, go. There is not a lot of time to mess around.

The easy solution would be to go to bed earlier and get up earlier, but I refuse to give up the time I spend by myself at night. So we found ourselves in a pickle first thing. Typically, Jeremy moves his bowels at odd times during the day. He's not someone by whom you can set your clock. It took a long time for him to do this function on the toilet. We cajoled, bribed and threatened him for a year before he made up his mind and started doing it.

That being said, when he makes the decision to take care of that business, you can't mess with him. He finds a book (this is the only indication he gives of what he's doing) and he can spend upwards of 15-20 minutes taking care of everything. Typically, this is not an issue because we have time for him to be able to attend to it. There is not time built into our morning routine to account for that.

I had Bekah and Doug dressed and strapped into the van. I was dressed, had my shoes on and sitting on the couch as the clock crept toward 8:50, then 8:55. Preschool starts at 9:00, the proposed new time for Bekah's dance class was 9:15. It was going to be tight, but I was fairly certain we could do it. However, no amount of verbal assault could get Jeremy to speed up the process.

We didn't leave for preschool until 9:00. We hurried into his school, then I hurried out. The first disappointment of the day? Apparently, the proposed change was for Wednesday morning, not Monday morning and it was to be for the start of the new session. So we pull up to her dance class and the building is empty. I have to explain to my 3-year-old that she will, in fact, have dance class. She is in tears. I am already at overflow for frustration.

I decided we would just run errands before going to pick Jeremy up. We headed to the bank, then the library. When I got Bekah out of her carseat, I realized she had ripped a hole in her tights. No matter, I thought, I have an extra pair at home. We walk up to the library and Bekah trips and falls. I have Doug in my arms because the umbrella stroller didn't make it's way back to the van. I can't even comfort her because Doug is heavy; if I put him down, I'm afraid he'll bolt for the stairs and take a header.

We pick up Jeremy and head home. I make lunch, then try to track down the extra pair of pink tights. It's always the case that I lay eyes on a desired object about a dozen times, make a mental note of it's location, and then when I need it, I can't find it to save my life. Compound that with my narrow laundry room and it's lack of organization? It's a recipe for disaster.

It took me 45 minutes to locate the damn tights. Meanwhile, I stepped on and broke my Swiffer, discovered that a bottle of detergent had leaked everywhere, kept discovering plastic grocery bags in every imaginable crevice, and generally cursed every item in the laundry room.

After dance class, I tried to take a nap with the kids in my room. That was laughable at best. I ended up putting them in their room so I could catch a few, uninterrupted zzzzzs. Then I was in a mad rush to get dinner ready. It came out well, but the meat and potatoes were slightly undercooked.

In general, it was just a rotten day. I eat when I am stressed and so I ate more than I wanted to and ate the kind of foods I should avoid. The misdirection with Bekah's class meant I lost my ideal time slot to work out--when I am down one child. I decided last night that I was going to work out even if it was late; this seemed to be the best decision I made all day. It helped me feel better about myself and resolve some of the anger I had been feeling.

I get this sense that being the mother of 3 small children is a lot like living in the movie "Groundhog Day." It is tough to distinguish one day from the next; they all start to blur together into one, long, uninterrupted repeat. There is something a bit melodious about the monotony because I know what to expect. I have to remember that I struggle during the summer to fill empty days. Full days make the time go by faster. The planful part of my nature wishes the routine was already set in place by now, but I also need to remember that variety is the spice of life. Everything is as it should be.

Let's hope next Monday brings a little less chaos.