At the end of the Labor Day Holiday, as I anxiously started gearing up for a busy and short work week with tons of extra curricular activities on my plate to handle, I wondered at the challenge of getting to the end of the coming week with everything done.
I have a tendency to get really worked-up about something before I attack the situation and get it taken care of. I obsessively visualize what needs to get done, and imagine the logical order to accomplishing what I need to do. Sometimes I even make physical lists to follow. I had already started this exercise, but a rough Monday night with my youngest son up most of the night crying proved that the week was not going to go as I was working it out in my head.
When one of my sons turns up sick, I’m the one who usually has to flex my workload so I can be available to play Florence Nightingale. The luxury afforded by working remotely from home, is I can do that. It’s exhausting those days when I spend all day entertaining and taking care of an ailing child then have to squeeze in work time while they’re napping, and after my husband gets home. I now had to add Take Son to Doctor to Check For Ear Infection to the now overwhelming looming list of ‘To Do’s.
Instead of readying for hosting the annual kick-off gathering of my women’s group, organizing and tagging our cast-off baby items for a consignment sale, preparing for my first sprint triathlon, writing articles for Empowher, and working overtime on manuals in addition to the usual homemaker duties, I was graciously reminded by this act of God, Mother Nature, whatever-you-believe-in, about what is really important. It was as if I could hear my own mother saying like she always does when I’m getting excited about something, “Slow down, little one.” There was something else to consider, so I readjusted my focus.
So I replaced all the hats I planned to wear, and firmly attached the Mom hat. We couldn’t get in to see the doctor until the end of the day, so I helped usher my baby boy through soul crushing wave-after-wave of crying sessions, and frustration tantrums. He couldn’t sleep, and wouldn’t eat, so he just cried.