No matter how many times I am reminded that I am not in charge of this rodeo, I’m still surprised when I get thrown off the horse.
Fascinating, my delusions of control.
This week is very busy and kind of all over the place for me. My kids get out of school so I have some fun things lined up. I also have to work, so I’ve concentrated a lot into the days I planned to be able to be there. Add to that a couple of personal appointments and I have myself a rodeo.
I was away for the weekend, and it was lovely and relaxing. The moment I got in the car to begin the six-hour drive back home, however, my mind began racing…thinking of all the logistics the week ahead involved.
I had it down though – everything sorted and scheduled perfectly (ha!) – until my eight year old began vomiting at 4am.
Out went picking up the dog at the kennel. Out went going to work for the morning, and the meetings planned there. Out went making it to the end-of-the-year sharing for my fourth grader. (I’ve never missed a single one and I feel quite sad about not being there.) Out went plans to host a last-day-of-school dinner party.
My little one (who is sleeping at the moment) needs her Mama to hold back her hair as she heaves, and to lay a cold compress on her sweaty little forehead.
So, I leaned on a friend to get the healthy child to school. I made calls and returned emails between puking spells. I rescheduled appointments, got what I could get done online, left the dog in jail for one more day, cancelled dinner plans and made sure the fourth grader was represented by her dad at the sharing.
(Applies cold compress to own forehead).
What kind of shoddy rodeo is this, anyway? If I must get thrown from my horse, there should at least be clowns.
Wait…am I the clown?
I am, aren’t I.
(Editor’s Note – this clown is thankful for kind friends, reliable and understanding colleagues, cell phones and the internet. Without those her rodeo would be a bust, for sure.)