I have no sense of routine and because of this, my life is often chaotic.  My house is rarely tidy, my laundry is usually piled up to heaven, my kids eat too many rushed and unwholesome meals, socks and rugby kits are always missing, ballet shoes are never where they were left and I find myself on the last minute whatever I’m doing and wherever I’m going.  No exaggeration. I am always late and although I despise myself for it, I never learn from it.

My workday mornings are manic.  I rush around at the last minute cleaning shoes, looking for lost Geography homework, counting out the dinner money, signing homework diaries and rushing out of the door while shoving slices of toast into my kids mouths. And when we do try to sit down and eat breakfast together, my kids usually find something to squabble about so any chance of a civil and harmonious meal is minimal to say the least.

I sit in my car in traffic queues, cursing the traffic lights and growling at all the other drivers who exist simply to make my life harder. When I finally reach my first destination, I throw myself out of the car in a mad panic. Then I drag the kids out, rushing and stressing at the poor things while they rub their eyes, tuck their shirts in and wonder what happened between sleeping blissfully in their cosy beds to being pushed into school by their manic mother.

I reach the car park at work and I curse the barrier because it is delaying me even more and the temptation to crash it is high.  Then I prowl around the car park hunting for a space but being late means the spaces are all taken.  I usually end up throwing my poor, abused car into any desperate little space thus contravening the fascist car parking rules and often resulting in returning to a ticket slapped on my windscreen.  Anyway, after illegally abandoning said car, I have to then sprint to the hospital building where I work which is deliberately built a million miles away from the car park and I am usually sweating like a pig and look like a wild woman of Borneo when I arrive at the long since deserted staff room.

It’s not just the mornings that fail me.  Even a simple trip to the cinema is spoilt by my tardy habit because we invariably miss the beginning of the movie and find ourselves scrambling in the dark, trying to turn invisible as we squeeze between the seats, disrupting the viewers who’ve arrived in plenty of time and are sitting comfortably, eating their popcorn and tutting and sighing at the inevitable late arrivals who spoil it for the organised ones.

Well I have come to the conclusion that this chaotic way of life is unsustainable and will one day come crashing down on me.

So I have a plan folks.  A Monthly Planner plan actually.  Every aspect of my life is going to be put onto a monthly planner.  I am going to create a menu planner, a budget planner, a homework planner, a housework/laundry/shopping planner, even an activity planner.

You name it, I will monthly plan it.

So I need to get going because I’m late getting started.  Sigh.


2 responses to this post.

  1. All working, conscientious mothers go through the same predicament. Not all of them have the same brains, or the same love, or the same kids, or are so brave as the one I’m addressing this to.

    LOL, although this may seem unmerciful.


  2. Ah Jose, you are so kind. I do exaggerate a little but the point is still the same.


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