That was the week no one asked for.
There are weeks when I feel like I have my life together in a way that’s indescribable. I’m organized, productive, the calendar is my bitch. Everything runs smoothly and I manage to make a beautiful homemade dessert before I even pick the kids up from school. Those are my kind of weeks.
And then there are weeks when a hurricane rolls through the Gulf and rearranges my entire life without actually making landfall anywhere near me., and it leaves me wondering whether I should just cancel my subscription to being a functioning adult.
Welcome to last week.
As a lifelong Floridian who lives on the Gulf Coast, hurricanes don’t scare me. The loss of power in the middle of a heatwave scares me, but wind and rain do not. People panic buying all the gas ad making the Publix parking lot a nightmare scare me. But weather does not. However, last week, Mother Nature reminded me she has a personal vendetta against everyone along the Gulf Coast who dared to make plans.
This particular storm – whose name literally no one can pronounce – decided to make a trip along the Gulf Coast up to our beloved 30A, but it also graciously provided us with four solid days of nonstop rain (which you know I love more than anything in the entire world). It was literally the best four days of my life, except my entire family calendar last week was created around the assumption the world was going to remain functioning when it did not, in fact, remain functioning.
Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
Bless my heart.
First, there was golf.
Ava had two matches scheduled last week, both of which were cancelled due to the weather. This is particularly fun when they are cancelled at the last minute so you can’t even really get your day back.
Then there was homecoming.
Yes, Ava’s sophomore homecoming was last week. The parade, prowl, the hair appointment that we scheduled months ago, the nail appointment, the game, the dance, the photos, the getting ready with friends. All of it was last week.
And then the weather said omg that’s so cute. No. Homecoming was moved to this week. So now, we hae to re-do all the dress up days, reschedule hair, and flowers, and getting ready and literally every single thing that was last week is now this week, but so is golf and everything else. So that’s fun. Every single thing we had scheduled and planned last week had to be moved to this week.
And if that wasn’t enough to reschedule…
Ava had an orthodontist appointment last Monday. Her ortho is 45 minutes south. She had to miss her one day of golf practice before the weather lost it’s mind to go to this appointment. We drove all the way to the ortho – Ava decided we’d be in our Red Era on the way down – and we arrived only to walk in and be told that their internet, phone, wifi, and all systems are down and they are so very sorry but they cannot see Ava.
And…that’s that. 45 minutes there. 45 minutes home. No appointment. Days to reschedule, and so we did reschedule…to this Friday. Which I then had to call and reschedule AGAIN because NOW this Friday is homecoming. So that was fun.
Did I mention we were gone the entire weekend prior?
Oh, yes, we were traveling and exhausted from it. It was parent’s weekend at USF, so we spent the weekend with our daughter. Dinner Friday night, shopping and the football game Saturday, home Sunday for a little rest. Getting to spend some time with her at college was such a cool experience. To see her building this life that she gets to call her own? That’s so cool. I might be mentally thinking of her as still being a baby, but she’s not, and that’s okay.
But, between college weekend, cancelled weeks, hurricanes, homecomings, rescheduling literally every single thing that was on our calendar for an entire week, I feel like I spent the better part of a week participating in a social experiment designed to see how many times a mid-life mom of four could rearrange her carefully constructed schedule before she goes entirely crazy.
And honestly…I’m entirely crazy. For fuck sake…I will not survive another week like last week. You cannot make me.
Seriously.
Final thoughts
This is the part of motherhood that no one really prepares you for. It’s not the big stuff. It is the constant, relentless, ever-present, never-ending adjusting. You make a plan, the plan changes. You make a new plan, someone injures themselves. You reschedule an appointment, then you have to reschedule it again. You finally have everything fixed and rescheduled and done and a hurricane decides to wreck everything you worked so hard to create.
At some point, “what’s the plan today?” turns into “What in the fresh fuck is happening now?” and that’s kind of just life at 43 with four kids and a busy schedule. And the most offensive part of all of this is the entire world wants me to handle this with a good attitude and a smile, and an “I’m sure it will all work out and be totally fine!” Yeah, because I’m going to make it work out and be fine but do not think for a hot second I’m not going to lose my fucking mind for a moment before I do all that FOR THE SECOND TIME, mmmkay?
I am flexible. I roll with the punches. I can handle that life is oftentimes unpredictable. I have four kids, I have mastered this. But, sometimes, I would just like to spend some quality time with my family that doesn’t involve a spreadsheet, 899 phone calls, and a calculator to make sure the schedule is scheduling. Is that too much to ask? Apparently, yes.
I have a dream.
A modest little dream in which everything that’s in the calendar that has been meticulously scheduled and color-coded and written down just…happens. On time. On schedule. every single time.
That’s it. That’s my dream.
