Know what sucks? Decaffeinated coffee. Bleah. But caffeine on top of anxiety is sort of like, um, I dunno, being electrocuted and then while you’re still laying there twitching, having someone come up and prod you with a taser.
Actually, it’s probably nothing at all like that, but without caffeine I lack the neural connections necessary for a lucid metaphor.
Anyway, although I weep for my coffee, and my tea, and my beloved Diet Coke with Lime, my skin is beautiful. Pasty white, of course, but zit-free! Beautiful! Apparently caffeine clogs the pores. Or maybe it’s completely unrelated and it’s just free time that causes pimples. More research is needed.
(I believe I have some free time scheduled for August. We should know by then.)
Tomorrow is Chickadee’s last day of first grade, and then we are officially into the Summer Schedule. This is the first time I’ve had to figure out an entire summer of full-time childcare, and so naturally I made it as complicated as possible.
Theory: By varying the children’s activities, it will seem more like vacation and soothe my guilt over working!
Reality: I need three different calendars just to figure out where they’re going when, and the lack of continuity will probably send everyone into a tailspin before we even make it out of July!
In the meantime, between the three of us I believe we’ve got about 400 hours of various doctors’ appointments scheduled. All of which need to happen during time when I should be at work, of course. And there’s the little matter of those two weeks where my time at the office was spent mostly either A) hyperventilating under my desk or B) staring into space in a tranquilizer haze, so I’m scrambling to get caught up as it is.
A petulant voice in my head is crying not fair. Summer is supposed to be about lazy days and picnics and lemonade. There are no Hallmark cards or trashy novels that refer to those idyllic Summer days spent working overtime, shuffling kids across town to therapy, and having bloodwork, bone density scans, and food allergy challenges. NONE.
Popsicles. Summer should be uncomplicated, and full of popsicles.
It hits me, again and again, and sometimes when I least expect it and nearly always when I least feel able to cope with it. This is not what I planned for my kids. This is not what I planned for myself. But this is what we have, and now it’s my job to find a way to make it work.
Which means I have to get back to “normal” immediately, if not sooner. Or win the lottery. Normal would be nice, because I sort of miss it; but being able to quit work AND hire a nanny has its appeal, too. Decisions, decisions….