The Untimely Death of my Perfect Day

Eek,
It’s already Wednesday… shit, it’s already APRIL!
And with time traveling at Mach II with it’s hair on fire, I am finally coming to the grips that there is no such thing as the “Perfect Day”.

Considering I don’t really look for perfection in any aspect of my life it’s kind of humorous that I expect a whole 24 hour period to go off without a hitch. Actually, it’s completely and utterly absurd. What on Earth am I fucking thinking?

With 3 kids and a husband nothing is every going to go according to plan, EVER AGAIN. They never even went according to plan before. I’ve just glorified my memories to think that maybe, just once, just for a teeny, tiny, hot minute, they did.
They fucking didn’t.
I just rolled with the punches better back then.
There were less people depending on the outcome of other things. There were far less responsibilities and I really allowed myself a little wiggle room for things to go to shit. I don’t have that wiggle room anymore. If my life was a size 16 I’m trying to squeeze it into a pair of bedazzled, size 6, cutoff shorts with the pockets poking out the bottom.

Oh My G-d!
My whole schedule is like a wicked step-sister trying on the glass slipper.
IT’S NEVER GONNA HAPPEN!
THAT SHIT DOESN’T FIT!

And with this amazing realization comes the even bigger task of figuring out how I will allow the shit storm to fly around me and not get caught up in its gust.

Because the 8 year old is going to forget his homework. And his lunch bag. And his IPad. But that’s his responsibility and I’m only spinning my wheels when I let it effect me.
And 3 year old is going to have accidents. And paint on his clothes. And a million temper-tantrums. But I can only control the way I handle these things. Nothing more, nothing less.
And the baby is going to have fevers. And gas. And constipation. And as his loving Mommy I just have to roll with the punches and jump off each bridge as we come to it and stop worrying about the fall before I even get to the top.
And dinner is going to be late. A lot. Or from the freezer. A lot. And although I love to cook I have to remind myself that the little fires get put out first or else the house will burn to the ground…. so I might not have time to indulge in making the homemade things I love because homework, and driving to sports, and Hebrew school come first.
There is only one of me and I only have 2 hands.

Here lies my perfect day.
“Bury the dead, they stink up the place”

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