When did being 2 years old mean having a “schedule” — I don't mean an eat, poop, nap schedule — I mean an entirely separate calendar in mommy’s BlackBerry.
Glancing at the family calendar that hangs in my kitchen to keep our lives running smoothly, I noticed my own schedule consisted mostly of arrows pointing to my daughter’s name, where her events are listed:
Monday: Playgroup at the Zoo
Tuesday: Gymnastics
Wednesday: Dentist Appointment; Museum trip
Thursday: Well, it’s still open, but it’s early
Friday: Playdate
Saturday: Birthday Party
Sunday: Church, then Birthday Party
These are the scheduled events, mind you. It doesn’t include the ones we’ve had to turn down this week.
Two birthday parties in one weekend, for a 2-year-old? And these are big bashes, not the backyard cake and ice cream types.
“How did this happen?” I asked my older brother, who spent years battling over-scheduling his now 14- and 11-year-olds. He informed me I had to do two things — get it out of my head that a day at home equaled bad parenting and learn a new word, “no.”
Before children, I vowed to never become an overextended family — running from soccer practice to dance class to PTA meeting and running everyone ragged. Uh uh, no way.
But with only one child, barely talking, I didn’t think that would be something I’d have to worry about for years. Somehow, it snuck up on me, sucking from my life any time for dinner with friends, hair appointments and those other little things I once considered necessary for my sanity.
Ava is now officially running the show.
But I have a plan to overthrow my unwitting dictator and take back my life. Mainly through the use of those poor souls who find her darling even when she throws her sippy cup across the table and screams help when you pick her up - Pop Pop, Grandma, Nanny, Aunt Cindy, Uncle Terry, BeBe and various other relatives and friends.
They’ve all offered to baby sit, and on some occasions my husband and I have readily agreed, even asked the favor. Still, until recently, I’ve been of the mind that baby sitters were only to be called upon when you need to work, go to the doctor or visit a sick relative. Asking someone else to do my ‘work’ while I stimulate the economy on a shopping trip, somehow didn’t feel right.
Surprisingly, when I tried my hand at it the other day, semi-snookering my cousin into baby-sitting while I volunteered at a children’s consignment sale, it came pretty natural. I just remembered all the baby-sitting I had done so friends could go on vacations, go Christmas shopping alone, have a date night, take a nap, take a class.
These were all people I love and respect as parents. I never thought they were derelict in their duties for going to a movie with friends, so why wouldn’t I cut myself the same slack? I don’t know the answer to that question, but I have figured out the resolution to mine and my daughter’s mismatched scheduling issues.
So, if we exchange Christmas presents and you do not want to baby-sit this weekend, don’t pick up the phone.
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