I’m here and I’m swamped. Please help. Tell me how you do it? Tell me how you rise on time and manage to make breakfast. You’ve been up all night with one child – croup? Is that what they call it? Your eyelids hang but you’re present, an automaton I’m sure, but you make it. You have orange juice in the fridge and napkins that haven’t been borrowed from Wendy’s. Your washcloths are clean, even if still in the heap of laundered clothes shelved in the dryer. You change a diaper, not one but maybe two, and you manage to put on work clothes that have the appearance of professional. Your ivy isn’t dead although you last fed it during the Oscars. Tivo captures the episodes it should, and you have an extra box of tampons in the bathroom closet. It matters not that your best friend regifted them as a regrettable purchase.
Your half-hour ride to work is brought to you by Sirius, because you remember to pay the bill, even if you did write a check. You mock Grey’s with coworkers because you watched last night’s episode, albeit in a dissociative haze. You tweet at least thrice a day, one of which is worthy of a follower’s favorite. You walk the dog at lunch, even though it’s to the corner and back, even though you run inside before the elderly neighbor gets a chance to talk about that tree you won’t claim as yours. You consider dinner options from your desk, choosing something with protein this time, because those in the nutritional know say it’s important. You survive a 4 pm conference call and manage to escape being labeled as disheveled for at least three-quarters of your day.
On the way home, you stop at Giant. Bread, milk, eggs. You serve dinner with a glass of 2 percent, one you sought out on sale, because it’s important to budget and dairy works. The milk you choose doesn’t go bad, doesn’t develop the line of film that separates the spoiled from the fresh. You check it at least once every day or two, as you do the frozen meats. You have a book on the nightstand; you manage to read 20 pages a night. Maybe 17. The cats don’t sit in their own litter, because you wouldn’t want to, would you? You brush teeth, including yours, make a call to a college girlfriend, and check the lights and doors before turning off the lamp on the bedside table. You can’t sleep, mind racing, possibilities not only endless but endlessly grating. So you make a midnight PB&J sandwich and throw chicken and soup in the crock pot and hope it doesn’t kill the whole lot of you during the night. Tell me. Just how do you do it?
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If someone does happen to know, please share with the class. Because I, for one, am clueless.
You do in life what you have to. If you don’t do it, you don’t have to. Have to is different for different people. I’m learning the hard way to cut down my have to list.
I feel the same way you do. Every day I wonder if I’ll ever be that put together. I’m pretty sure I could be if I canceled cable. Maybe.
A co-worker of mine asked me just the other day how I could possibly do all the things I do. So I let her in on my little secret: sleep deprivation. If you only sleep 3 hours a night, you manage to get a lot done. It’s all done half-assedly and you feel like you want to die, but hey, the stuff is done.
Man, I can’t wait until this semester is over!
I honestly don’t know how people do it. My brother/sister-in-law have three children, two job, a dog, go to the gym, blog, play fantasy sports, go on vacations, do all sorts of stuff. Blows my mind.
I pretty much don’t do it and have tried to cut myself some slack about it.
Also, as the kids get bigger they are so much easier.
you do it because you have to, because that’s what you signed up for. you do it because you want to, because despite being horribly frazzled and at your wits end, it’s what you want. if you don’t want it, you generally suck at it, and stop doing it.
That’s an awfully nice piece of writing.
I agree with ella’s take. You do what you have to do. It takes self discipline to achieve, usually through high cost lessons. Try not having milk in the house at breakfast time on a school day. Lesson learned and not to be repeated. Also, sleep is highly over rated.
I look at my friends that have kids and wonder the exact same thing; how do they make it look so easy? I feel like I’m treading water while juggling bowling balls.
I can’t imagine ever being that on top of things, with or without the husband/kids/dog/white picket fence. I would probably have to hire a full-time staff.
Self-discipline & daily list-making…
I wish I knew. Because I don’t know how they do it. I guess if something more than a cat was depending on me I’d HAVE to. But as it is, the cats don’t seem to care if I let the dishes pile up in the sink. So I let them pile up.
I’m not saying anything all that different than the above posters, but for me I live by lists. What I need at the grocery, etc. And I combine errands. I never leave the house to do just one thing. One errand trip combines the library, the grocery store, and any other assorted places. Also I’m big into prepping for stuff. I pick out clothes for both my son and I the night before and get everything ready as far in advance as I can. Most of it has been a slow evolving dance that each day gets more and more graceful. Now if you could have seen me (and my home and fridge) a week after we brought my son home from the hospital, that’s a different story.
i don’t do one damn thing. i sit in a daze and wonder who is going to do it for me. if no one ponies up? i cry and drink a few cocktails, prefereably w/ red bull.
practice makes perfect!
Yeah, I’d have made a shitty pioneer too. They slog across the prairie with bandit attacks and winter storms.
It’s all I can do to hit the bank and the drycleaners on the same day.
when that miracle happens, I’ll be sure to shout it from the heavens.
I just folded a sofa full of laundry that’s been building for 2 weeeks. There’s dog hair floating across the carpet and I can’t remember when I cleaned the bathroom last.
Medications. Fistfuls of medications, washed down with Coke Zero.
Lies. It’s all lies. They’re not really getting all of that done.
While some days I get some of that done, it’ll be a cold day in hell when I get all of that done. I figure if the kids have clean clothes, a warm dinner and there isn’t dog hair in everything I’ve done a good job.
I’m with Becky. I don’t. I try my hardest not to be enviable. It’s overrated.
You just keep doing it. One day you will say, “I did that.”
This doesn’t really happen does it? Cause if I make it home with enough energy for a bowl of Corn Flakes it is a wild success.
I don’t either and am totally scared of crock pots. If you had my wiring issues, you’d never risk it, either!
I swear I read this thinking it was going to end in a scene of horrific domestic violence — pillow smothering, head in gas oven hijinks. Kind of a let down, Kiki. :)
Please tell me because I’m drowning over here. I’m getting pretty good at meeting the baby’s ever need and last night I managed to shave my legs for the first time since Valentine’s Day so there’s hope for me…not really. I’m a walking disaster.
take it from an empty nester…my kids remember the “gas station” sandwiches when I didnt have anything to pack for lunches and the music trivia during long car rides. I remember not being able to go to bed until 1 am every night due to work, school, study and every kid sport imaginable. 6 am always came too soon. But it changes..dont worry..
I’m with kristabella. On a bad day, it’s three cheers for just getting out of bed. On a good day, I make the bed. Keeping expectations low is the key. That, and vowing next time to come back as a well-pampered cat.
brilliant… just brilliant. love the post. but as far as “how do you do it?” goes, i’m going to answer with “xanax” and call it a day. :)
you do it because you have to…even though somedays you hardly can…but you do
You just do.
Life transforms people.
When you can, and do, do it, then you think longingly about how you didn’t have to do it before.