And now I’m sorry

So I was really mad when I wrote the last blog post. I'm working on not being mad. It's not very productive and it makes you think you're having a stroke all the time. Also, it's exhausting. I have too much to do to stew. I have too much to do to be writing this blog post, too. Accidental rhyming is a sure sign that one's brain is overloaded.

And speaking of overload, this is the time of year when I wish I could issue a blanket apology to pretty much everyone. There are parties to go to and brunches to attend and school events to not forget and first grade homework to work on and third grade essays to write and seventh grade social studies projects to toil over. There are gifts to buy and things to mail and bills to pay. There is a house to decorate so the kids aren't deprived of the holiday spirit, there are travel plans to be made so we can see loved ones. There is a very ill-timed spousal business trip to suffer through. There is a manuscript for my next novel due in something like eight weeks (I refuse to count because I will panic and possibly die).

This is why I need a stack of little business cards that just say "I'm sorry."

My first grader is not practicing his math. He has not found his lost library book. He missed the window for free karate classes. He wore two different shoes to school for two days in a row before I noticed. I'm Sorry cards for everyone!

My third grader is drawing pictures of cape-wearing poop instead of practicing multiplication tables because I am trying to cook dinner and answer first grade questions about tens and ones and answer seventh grade questions about acids and bases and not burn dinner while also answering six emails about teacher gifts while also also trying to stop thinking about where my characters left off in the argument they were having about how to cross the US/Texas border.

I probably won't get my money in on time to anyone's class parent for the big group gift cards they're buying the teachers. But isn't it OK for kids to just make cards and say thank-you for being awesome? We're making You're Awesome cards, goddammit. 

I missed my critique group today so that I could go to a holiday brunch which I ended up also skipping so I could stay home and work on my manuscript but instead ended up writing this blog post to try to assuage my guilt for not getting anything done on time. I'm sorry for my poor time management.

No presents are wrapped. 

The tree is not decorated.

Pretty much no presents are bought. I'm *thinking* about buying some, though. I have a list. A list is the first step, right?

I have not yet purchased graham crackers for the "gingerbread" houses the first graders are going to make next week. I am, in fact, (shhh) trying to convince my kids to skip their holiday parties so that we can go to my parents' house for a few days and I can lay on the floor. I realize the schools hate it when parents do things like this because they lose funding for the days the kids aren't in school. I'm sorry the system is set up that way. I'm sorry the schools won't get money if I try to avoid a nervous breakdown.

There are always 25 things happening at once and yet nothing seems to get done or found or answered. I swear I'm not ignoring anyone, I am running triage. Poorly.

I often think about the people who have their shit together. The ones who can manage a deadline AND homework AND laundry AND feeding people AND getting their $20 into the proper envelope in the proper classroom for the proper gift card giving. I don't really wonder how they do it, I figure that ship has sailed. I do wonder if one day I'll have enough money to hire one of these people to do these things for me. Maybe, instead of figuring out how to do everything at once I should figure out how to delegate.

I just feel guilty

all

the

time.

I feel like I'm failing everybody. And when I do manage to have a few minutes of quiet time to sit and blink, I feel terrible that I'm not spending that time more productively. When I give in and let the kids play their Sonic the Hedgehog racing game instead of doing homework right off the bat, I feel bad. But they *did* just finish seven hours of school. And I *do* have to cook dinner. But I *will* be sorry when they have to take benchmark tests and I get letters sent home saying, "Please work on math every night". That will make me want to cry. 

So. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry to everyone.

And I probably could have done a better job with this blog post, turning it into some kind of feminist empowerment post instead of just an OMG WHAT IS HAPPENING PANIC-WHINE, but I didn't. Sorry!

At least I'm less angry now, though, right? Progress.

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One thought on “And now I’m sorry

  1. First of all, I don’t know who those people are that have all their shit together, but I don’t like them. We do have a tree up (a fake one that is pre-lit for the win!) and my girls put ornaments on it. So we have that. But no presents bought, including ones that need to go in the mail, ASAP. Oops.
    None of that is what I really wanted to say though. I’m a teacher. Every year I get some lovely gifts (not too terribly lovely because I teach at a school in which 85% of my kiddos live in poverty) and I appreciate them. But the few notes I get from students or parents, that they wrote, about how much I matter in their lives, those I treasure. I’d much rather get a You’re Awesome card than anything else. So go for it!

    Like

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