A Scheduled Life

June 21, 2012

in How to be a Housewife

Give me a deadline 2hrs from now, and I’ll write you a paper worthy of at least an A-. Give me a paper due 2 weeks from now? I’ll be writing it in 1week, 6days, and 22hours.

What can I say? I work best under pressure. And I’m master bull-shitter. Not to mention a pretty fast typist.

All skills that came in extremely handy when I was in college. Although, oddly enough, not for a degree in politics. Which you would think would have been a natural fit. Except they expected me to know things like dates and names. Actual dates and names. It’s like they missed the entire point of having a B.S. degree.

Flash forward seven years, and it still comes in handy. Open the Little Man’s door to find he’s attempted to change his own dirty diaper, using every single pair of clean socks, underwear, and shorts in his drawers, and managing to smear it all over the carpet, bedding, and walls? I’m all over it.

But remembering to clean the bathroom on a weekly basis. Or change the sheets even though no one’s managed to pee, snot, sweat, or poo through them within the last seven days?

Well….

I meant to.

But then there were cookies to bake. Or blogs to write. Or butterflies to chase. Or poo to clean off the ceiling.

And, well, I’ll get to it sometime. Just as soon as I get to the dishes. Or the cookies. Or my blog. Or the poo. Or my nap.

Which would, in my estimation, be a perfectly fine way to live. But then there’s the Big Man. A Type A through and through, who doesn’t believe in doing so much as a single tweet before each and every chore that could possibly ever be done is, well, done.

And then there’s the Little Man. Who is the Big Man’s son in every way.

So when he dragged his arch nemesis, the vacuum cleaner, out of the closet and asked me to please, pretty please, with a cherry on top, vacuum already, I figured that perhaps I should find a better system.

The Big Man may or may not have danced a jig upon hearing this.

First I tried a list. There’s nothing that tickles my inner-nerd more than a good, hand-written, checked-off list. Just making a list of things to do makes me feel so accomplished, I often feel no need to accomplish any thing else for that day.

It’s called pacing yourself, people, PACING.

Of course, neither the Big Man nor the Little Man seemed to share in my sense of accomplishment. It seems they value other things more. Like clean clothes. And the inability to draw a master self portrait with just their finger on the TV screen.

So I added “find better system” to my list.

Two years later?

I’ve finally found it.

Along with a few magnets that fell behind the fridge, some calcified raisins (?), and Mr. Dog’s nose.

Naturally, as soon as I put it up, the Big Man started laughing. Which didn’t surprise me in the least. I had a feeling he’d find something amusing about it.

Like the fact that I’ve scheduled out (and color-coded) most of every day down to the half-hour.

Or that I’ve scheduled in things like “Get the Little Miss Up”

As if she’d let me forget that.

Especially since, at the moment, she sleeps in the middle of the kitchen. Co-Sleeping is obviously not a choice for us.

Or “Naptime”

 As if I would ever forget that.

Or “Dinner” As if ANY of us would ever forget that.

But no. It was none of that. What tickled the Big Man’s funny bone was this:After all, how else would I remember to create next week’s schedule unless I’ve scheduled in time to create the schedule?

{ 1 comment }

Katie June 26, 2012 at 7:02 am

Any chance you’ll share that spreadsheet of genius proportions? Just found your blog. I’m in love. I thought I was the only one who was type A, work under pressure and “if the sheets look clean and don’t smell too bad they are staying on”!

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