Where Did My Mojo a Gogo?

Have you missed me Mayhemville? I took a spontaneous week off to see if I could find my act and maybe even get it together. Alas, what I found in the time vortex that has become my life, is that there's always another activity that is willing to suck up your time. So instead of getting caught up and back on track, I'm still a chaotic mess that has lost most of her organizational skills. (If you knew me, you'd know how devastating this is to me.)

Last week baby boy started soccer. The husband is coaching. The mom (me) is spectatoring. The daughter also attends (usually forcibly). The oldest may or may not go, depending on various activities of his own. So this means that at least 4/5 of the house is out at the soccer field. Since he has to be there at 5:15 (which means walking out the door at 5) and I get home from work at 4:15, dinner becomes one of two options: Either I am savvy, organized super Mom who prepares a meal the night before that can have quick heat leftovers for soccer night, or I'm the one running around muttering, "Crap, crap, crap" while shoveling grilled cheese sandwiches on plates and looking for anything I can count as a side dish. Chips? Carrots? Half an apple and a go-gurt? Raisins? Wait a minute, we don't eat raisins....gross, gross, gross! That's where those grapes went!

This week I have soccer on Monday, open house number 1 on Tuesday, soccer again on Wednesday, and losing my mind has been penciled in for Thursday with a nice sedative scheduled for Friday. If that doesn't work, I'm building a tree fort in the back yard and hiding from my kids until December vacation. Listen, don't judge me until you race around in my shoes, probably from one activity to the next, scarfing down half a sandwich and a bottle of water because you have exactly 13 and a half minutes to eat before junior needs to be picked up/dropped off/picked up again/dropped off again.

As if that's not bad enough, we get home from soccer about 7 and now baby boy is upset that he "only has an hour before bedtime". All Mom wants to do is find a chair to support her aching feet while she tries to hatch a fool proof plan to get Daddy to rub said poor feet. Do you know how hard it is to hatch plans with whiny six year old in the background? Geez kid, have some respect for your exhausted elders who are proud of themselves for still being able to form proper sentences  at 7:30 every night. Go watch some mindless television and rot your brain for an hour. But exactly an hour of corroding brains and no more!

So needless to say, if you can't find me at home, I'm probably doing that whole damn "good supportive parenting" crap that's all the rage these days. If I can teach myself how to nap with my eyes open, I might be in business. (Although extremely creepy.)