I've been taking on too much lately. You know how it is, you pile on thing after thing, thinking you can do it all, but it's that one last thing--that smallest of all the things--that ends up being the one to topple it all. Like, saying 'yes' weeks ago under some duress to an invitation to attend an evening event on campus this past Friday, only to discover, three days later, that it was the same night and time as my daughter's school's fall festival.
Her new school. Her first fall festival there. And her grade worked hard on making bottle cap magnets to sell at the event, to raise money to help heal Haiti. After agonizing for a bit, I came up with a plan: go to the campus event (I had already sent in my RSVP), leave after forty minutes, and dash over to her school which, in ideal circumstances, should only be fifteen minutes away. It could work, but smooth implementation of the plan hinged on getitng the kids home, and dinner ready, and everyone fed by 4:30 so we could leave at 5:00. I would drop Scott and the kids off at T.'s school, and keep going to my campus in time to get to the gallery event by 6:00. I was a well-oiled machine, I tell you. I whipped up dinner in record time and had it ready by 4:35.
At 5:05 I was at the front door with T., purse over my arm, ready to go.
At 5:10 I was still there, at the front door. I love my husband dearly, but he is not what you would call fast on his feet. L. inherited those genes, for sure. By the time we did leave at 5:20 I was frazzled and grouchy and working hard to keep it together. It would take twenty minutes to get to T.'s school, and another twenty to drop them off and head downtown to my campus, park, and walk. I'd get to the gallery late, which would mean leaving the event later than I had planned, which would mean getting to the fall festival even later.
My plan! My plan was unraveling before my eyes!