Looks like GrazMan may have to work out of town later this week. He has had to do this more often lately, leaving me to juggle three children, their activities, a full time job, and the usual household tasks. So this time I thought some positive visualization of the week might help me. Maybe.
The ideal week:
- I stay on track with my running and actually DO all the cross-training I should be doing, or at a bare minimum the sit-ups and push-ups Coach wants us to be doing each day.
- Our mornings go smoothly, no sibling squabbles, everything packed the night before, and we arrive at each child's school on time.
- Our evenings are equally smooth. When faced with a challenging parenting moment, I search for and find the appropriate Scripture, the daughter in question reads it, understands it, and immediately applies it to the situation. Said daughter hugs me and thanks me for helping her be the best person she can be.
- Dinner is served before anyone reaches starvation point. Each meal is nutritionally balanced and delicious.
- GrazMan returns home, weary from his hard work and travels, and finds the house immaculate, children scrubbed and quietly waiting to greet him, a warm meal on the table, and a calm wife standing by ready to attack his laundry. We're a scene right out of Leave it to Beaver.
|Wasn't June the absolute BOMB??|
Worst case scenario:
- I will get in my runs, because that is the only thing standing between me and total insanity. Cross-training?? Who are you kidding?? Just breathing is cross-training enough this week!
- We will make it to school. Barely. Each child will have forgotten something important, requiring me to return home to fetch the forgotten items, only to realize they were in the back of the van. Or non-existent. I'll arrive to work an hour late with a run in my hose, mascara smeared from crying over all the fussing between the kids, and will have forgotten my lunch.
- The girls will fight all the way home each evening, giving me a massive headache requiring immediate ingestion of copious amounts of Advil and chocolate. When pushed to the brink, I will send the older two to their rooms, and will lock youngest in the laundry room, where she will proceed to dismantle the washing machine with the tools she finds while emptying everything out of the storage closet.
- Dinner will be from whichever fast food drive-thru we can get to the fastest, because I was running late and everyone is starving.
- GrazMan will return to find the children swinging from the light fixtures, having pulled all of the stuffing out of the sofa. Social services will be there doing an emergency inspection after finding McFries entwined in middle daughter's hair. I will be curled in fetal position in a corner with an almost empty bag of Fritos (dip size), an almost empty can of nacho cheese dip (you know, the gross kind they sell at 7-11 that somehow goes perfectly with the Fritos), and a completely empty bottle of cheap merlot with an extra long straw sticking out of it. He takes one look at the scene before him, including the cannibalized washing machine, takes his dirty laundry and heads immediately out the door in search of any possible out of town work he can find.