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flakey flakey flake flake

pretty much every monday SUCKS.

part of it is probably ‘weekend hangover’. no, that doesn’t mean we drank too much on the weekend, just that we were too much in weekend mode. the rest, the break from routine, etc.

every monday, layla is late for school.

every monday, I forget to eat breakfast. I’ll be running out the door, late, on my way to drop her off on my way to work out, when I realize, #$*%!, I haven’t eaten, and will likely keel over midway through if I don’t put something in me!

on mondays, I take shane to school. he doesn’t have jazz band (same as wednesdays, but they never seem as bad for some reason), so I take him and my dad stays w/ layla and micah at my house so they don’t have to get drug along. I get back (if we leave on time) at around 7:55, and the bus comes at 8:04 for layla. so unless I wake her up before 7 and get her hair done before I leave to take shane, the likelihood of her getting on the bus is very low. waking her up early on monday mornings is even more torturous than on other mornings, too, so I usually just let her sleep and then drive her later. but every time I drive her, we’re late!

I have a serious inability to leave on time. I have a very slightly better chance of leaving on time if I am going alone, but having any kids with me makes it even worse. I don’t know what it is. I don’t have things scattered through out the house. I know about keeping my keys in ONE place (yes, I learned this after years of doing it the hard way). our shoes are generally always in the laundry room (which leads to the garage). layla’s backpack lives in the laundry room, and is generally packed up the night before.

it’s not that we’re not dressed or ready to go in plenty of time. it’s the actual crunch time of when it’s time to leave that everything falls apart. I don’t know what it is! I say something like “put on your shoes”, or “time to go”, or “get in the car” and it’s like a signal for everything to go haywire. I don’t even know what happens, but somewhere between looking at the clock, making the announcement, and actually pulling out of the driveway 10 minutes later, people disappear. shoes that were just there disappear. cell phones that I just had in my hand disappear. people get yelled at. people cry. people fall down. people cry. people find toys that having been missing for a month and have miraculously reappeared.

every monday, I pull out of my driveway in a huff, swearing under my breath, and wondering WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH ME???

I know that those ‘born organized’ people out there are just rolling their eyes and thinking, well duh! if you would just ______________, then everything would be fine and you would get there in plenty of time.

you’re probably right. I’m sure that someone (other than me) could look at my morning and think, “good gracious, woman! you’re lucky you’re all still alive, nevermind getting someplace.”

I don’t know what it is. I know I’m an enormous flake. I know I am distracted and forgetful, and generally unaware of how long it takes me to do anything or get anywhere.

some days, I can accept this about myself and just assume I have other gifts that make up for this. other days, I can’t remember what those gifts are and I just beat myself up for the millionth time because I can never just seem to get with the flow of life. swimming upstream. that’s what life feels like for me. every. day.

unless it’s the weekend.

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