As crazy as my life can be structurally, in terms of schedule, it is highly organized. It has to be. There are a lot of things we can slide on, but my kids being where they are supposed to be and in the care of the right person at the right time, this is not negotiable. I work 45 miles away from my home; two hours of my day is spent commuting. Because my son rides the special needs bus, pickups and dropoffs have to be orchestrated through the school and schedule changes take up to five days to implement. Knowing ahead of time what's going to be happening and when gives me an enormous (and highly illusionary) sense of control.
So you can imagine when, on a Tuesday, my husband announced he would be leaving over the weekend to go to Nebraska for six weeks, I put my head between my knees and hyperventilated just a little bit (well, maybe more than a little bit).
I'd gotten pretty spoiled having a stay-home man all summer. I didn't have to worry about schedules and buses and where to be and when - I just had to get up on time, get ready on time and show up to work.
My husband was not impressed by my impending sense of doom. "You'll figure it out," he said. "You always do." BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT, DAMMIT. DOESN'T ANYONE CARE THAT I'M PANICKING HERE? And I did get it figured out, with the help of my friend Debbie and my mother. BUT STILL NOT THE POINT.
So we're sailing along pretty splendidly here. I get to see my parents at least four days a week when I stop after work to pick up the kids, who have completed most of their homework and been fed. Four days a week Debbie comes over and makes sure they're out the door in time to get on the bus and then feeds and waters all the animals. Did I mention I have some pretty awesome friends, not to mention parents?
It never pays to feel too much like you've got things under control.
Yesterday afternoon I discovered that my ex's schedule would be dramatically changing - ON MONDAY. All of my arrangements for morning and after school care just got flushed down the commode.
My husband had the bad luck to call me about five minutes after that. I treated him to about thirty seconds of hyperventilating and exited the call.
He hasn't called me back since, and I'm not sure if he's avoiding me completely or just too busy. I'm fairly sure its avoidance. Hell, I'd avoid me right now if it were possible.
Its not that I can't manage it, of course I can manage it. Its that I would just once in a while like some empathy for the fact that its not easy, that its stressful, not to mention lonely and thankless. It would be nice if there were some kind of monetary compensation or fancy award for being the "Queen of Managing Everything." Oh, yes, it would.
