For someone who has a strong love of organization, I clearly lack it in my own personal life.  My house might be organized, my shelves purged and arranged, my closets labeled and my supply closet neatly stocked…but ask me to fill my hours in the day wisely and well-balanced and I fail.  It’s like a closet stuffed with fifteen years worth of clutter, teetering on the brink of avalanche-like destruction.

If I could keep my schedule as well divided and accessible as my note card and stationary drawers, we’d be good.  Unstoppable.  Super mom.  But unfortunately I perform as a much more raggedy version of that super hero.  All I have to say is Thank God for the chalkboard calendar and my yellow note pad or this family would be sinking fast into a pit of missed appointments and PTA volunteer tragedy.

I’m just beginning to realize it.  After child three my balancing abilities were completely out of whack.  I’m sure at some point I’ll regain control of this flailing ship – like the Franklin Covey apprentice that I was.  I learned to organize with the master, people.  My biggest thrill was the new binder and graphic selections of the year.  Those days are gone for a moment.

If I miss your birthday, send your card two months early, forget to call you or email so far after the fact that you have forgotten why you even emailed me in the first place…take comfort in knowing that it’s temporary.

Like the Dr. Seuss book my life has become…Which Way?  That Way?  This Way?  Yes Way!

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