Nope Diary #01

Nope to the crippling sense of failure when plans change and things don’t get done (aka: math homework is Satan’s spawn)

Dear Diary,

Yesterday I had a plan. A plan that I talked to my youngest, A, about before we went our separate ways that morning, him to school, me to work. The plan: from the hours between elementary school pick-up and middle school pick-up, A and I would clean the house together (he, his room, me, everything else) and then I’d start a new exercise program before making dinner. It was doable. Attainable. All things that needed to get done.

Cue the ominous disruption of well-laid plans in the form of math homework.

First of all, I’ve never been good at math. Ever. But despite this irrefutable fact, I am suddenly expected to teach it? To my almost 11-year-old?? Who came up with this ludicrous idea?

My oldest never had homework in elementary school, but my youngest now does. Every week he comes home with one double sided sheet of math homework filled with horrors like word problems, long division, and something called partial quotients, which I honestly think is made up.

Normally, we space out the worksheet and do a little bit each day with my husband taking the lead, but it’s been a busy week of cross country meets and coding club, so that left just yesterday to get the behemoth chore completed. I set an incentive - we finish and he gets to play Minecraft for 30 minutes - grabbed the bag of chocolate covered pretzels and we got to work.

Two hours later and we still weren’t done.

Cue the gnashing of chocolate covered teeth.

It’s hard when plans shift, especially from a long list of what feels like “must do” tasks (clean the house, exercise, make dinner), to a math worksheet neither of us wanted to do. And then, to rub salt in the wound, we didn’t finish. So then it felt like nothing got done. The house was still filthy, dishes piled in the sink, dinner not made, and the homework still. Not. Done. It honestly made me feel completely helpless and overwhelmed. Like I’d lost chunks of time I’d never get back and there was no way to catch up or fix what was lost.

I feel like this a lot. Like I’m constantly chasing the clock and leaving a million things undone. Not only that, but the pressure of what to do can also feel overwhelming. Decisions like: do I spend the hour between elementary school pick-up and middle school pick-up folding and putting away the pile of clean albeit wrinkled clothes that have been sitting on the couch for the last week or spend it on something I love - reading, writing, staring aimlessly into space? Do I split the difference and try for a little of both? Which option will give me the necessary inspiration and push to get all the other non-negotiables done? Because it’s not just making a decision at that moment, it’s planning for the well-being of future Elizabeth and all those who share space with her. It’s a lot, is what I’m trying to say. It’s a lot and it’s not sustainable.

So what do I do?

I don’t really know. Sometimes it feels like every day will always be an endless juggle of decisions.

But with that knowledge, I can try to let things go. Try to not hold my plans so tightly.

Yesterday we were going to clean the house because my son’s 11th birthday party is on Saturday and I didn’t want him and his friends to have to sleep among our dog’s prolific shedding or use a toilet that hasn’t seen a bleach wipe this side of October. But you know what? They’re 11 and it’s probably better to do a quick vacuum and bathroom wipe down right before they show up anyway.

Yesterday I was supposed to start a new exercise series to help with my half marathon training, but it didn’t happen. Instead, I did pseudo squats in the basement while putting together five million boxes for the Minecraft themed obstacle course we’re building for the party.

I can make peace with the way yesterday shook out and try again today. A fresh start and all that.

Plus it’s Friday, so at least there won’t be any math homework.

🖤,

Elizabeth

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