When I started this blog, a few people asked: "How on earth do you fit it all in?" Well, you know, I don't always.
I mean, I'm not drowning in everything. Ok, maybe the ironing is suffering a little...ok - a lot. But things are getting done...mostly.
Or so I thought. I'm used to juggling everything I do. Well, I attempt to, at least. Parenting, running errands, cleaning the house, cooking, food shopping, working on school committees, catching up with friends, etc, the list goes on. But sometimes, and in fact, quite often lately, I find myself dropping a few balls. And yesterday, I dropped a few. In fact, there is no greater example of how my life is going right now than what came out of yesterday's efforts.
The day didn't start all that well. Hubby came to me in the morning asking about clean underwear. He wanted to know if there were any spare underpants hanging around that he could, like, possibly, you know, wear?
Off I ran to the study, where, as you would expect - of course - the laundry is kept. I rummaged through the pile, throwing socks, t-shirts, little person's underwear, knickers and bras aside and....nothing. Oops. In a brief moment of desperation, I picked up a pair of mine and gave them a bit of a stretch. Could they pass? Um, nup. With a feeling of dread, I knew I now had to tell Hubby the unfortunate news.
"What?" was his response, followed by a look of annoyance and a shake of the head. Not good. He stomped off to fetch out yesterday's pair. Nice. Let me tell you, the washing went in to the machine REALLY quickly after that.
Even though he didn't say it, I could see him thinking, 'What on earth have you been doing with yourself all week that there's not even one pair of clean underpants available?' And, you know, that's exactly what I'd be thinking if it was my knickers that were M.I.A. In fact, I was thinking that very thing when he asked about the underwear. Ball officially dropped.
Later, with clothes securely in the washing machine (including about 20 pairs of Hubby's underpants) I tackled the dishes. I can't remember what prompted me to think it, but I suddenly remembered my 5yr old had a birthday party to go to that day. I glanced at the clock. 10.45am. Eek! Was the party in the morning, or the afternoon? I dashed back in to the study to hunt for the invite (where, in addition to the laundry, the papers and the like are kept). I found it in about 10 seconds flat (far more successful than my earlier search). Let's see...time of party is...YIKES - 10am!!! "Oh my God, oh my God," I chanted, running around the house. "I've stuffed up - BIG time!"
"What, what?" Hubby asked, concerned over the urgency in my voice. I explained the party. Hubby was, once again, tight-lipped. My 5yr old (who was still wearing his pyjamas, not surprisingly) was dressed in 5 minutes, his teeth were brushed, his hair quickly combed through, and the present wrapped and hastily shoved in to his hands. And then he was out the door with Hubby to the local park for his buddy's 'sports party' (because, surprise, surprise - I was still in my pjs too). (Usually, we make a birthday card, but there was no time and so - gulp - I had to write the birthday boy's well wishes on the wrapping paper. Yep - nice touch.)
Just as they headed out the door, the rain started. Brilliant. Now not only was my son arriving 1 hour late to a sports party in the park (BECAUSE OF ME) he would now be spending the remaining time there undercover, doing nothing particularly 'sporty' at all. GREAT timing on my part. Perfect.
I watched helplessly as the rain got heavier and heavier. No sooner had Hubby returned from the drop-off, it was almost time for me to head to the party for the pick-up. On the drive there, the rain fell so hard, I had the windscreen wipers on MAX and I STILL couldn't see where I was going. Then came the lightening...and thunder. COULD IT GET ANY WORSE???
On my arrival, everything was flooding. All the kids were crammed together under the nearest shelter, singing Happy Birthday and eating ice-cream cake. The 5yr old seemed happy enough. As soon as he saw me, he asked, "Can I have some cake before we go, Mum?" It was like a stab in the heart. He'd been such a good sport through it all. I wanted to say, "No. You can't. You have to eat TEN slices of cake." But of course, that would really make me popular with the birthday boy then, wouldn't it? His buddy turns up late, then eats every piece of cake in sight. Sigh.
As we left, I said, "I'm so sorry Mummy forgot your party today, honey." And all he said was, "That's ok, Mum." By this stage, his main interest was on the lollipop he'd scored from the party. Aaaaghhh. Kill me now!!!! I feel so BAAAAD! Needless to say, for the rest of the day whenever he asked permission to eat a lolly from the lolly bag - it was granted. Immediately.
Afterwards, I had to dash to the shops to buy supplies that we were running low on. Oh, you know, just stuff like milk, bread, baby wipes...nothing super important.
And you know what? Unfortunately, this week is sure to be no different. There will be things I'll forget to do, and even more balls will be dropped. There is no doubt in my mind of this. But that's just how it is at the moment. Life is very busy. But after this weekend, I'm determined it will get better. The last thing I want is another son of mine to miss out on something as special as a friend's birthday party, and I'm not keen on Hubby discovering there's no clean underwear in the drawer, or in the study for that matter.
I WILL be more organised. I WILL go back to my incessant To Do List-writing. I WILL...just...do more...stuff.
Really, I will.
Until next time...
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