Whilst I love a good plan, and run my life through excel sheets and flowcharts, there has to be room for improvisation. Although I wish I could be on time with putting Victoria to bed, having dinner on the table, feeding Sebastian on the dot of the hour it just doesn’t work that way. Domestic life is not the same as an organisation. In an organisation people do in general their best not to loose face (and in worst case their job), and if you have reliable colleagues you know more or less what you can expect.
This is entirely different when it comes to a household. Every hour is a quest for saving time. I find myself getting a sweet call from Reinout only to do my utmost to end the conversation as Sebastian is making strong indications that he wants to be fed. Another example is Victoria’s bed times. As a general rule she should go to bed at 8 pm and be a sleep no later than 8.30 pm. But as I go upstairs to say goodnight I find myself lured to the laundry room, as the laundry is still in the washing machine and will start to stink if it’s not removed by the end of the evening. So instead of waiting for Victoria to get ready I switch tasks, although I know that sorting our the laundry might take a few minutes longer which will result in Victoria being up a few minutes longer.
Today when Reinout called me he reminded me that Victoria is (again!) feeding Buddy’s food to Cecile. As he uttered that very sentence I felt a sting of guilt hit my chest. I had been feeding the dogs yesterday whilst cooking dinner and as I couldn’t find Cecile’s food on the fly I threw some food of Buddy’s into Cecile’s bowl. Guilty as charged! And yet I didn’t disclose this little piece of information for the fear of disrupting the status quo.
Equally I start taking liberties with Sebastian’s well being. I don’t always boil the bottles and dummies although I should after every use. How would I get the time to do that for the three minutes that is required? I also prepare his milk late at night instead of getting up at 4 in the morning to make a fresh bottle, let the water cool down and then feed him.
Yet I feel it’s expected of me to do all of this. Because on paper it looks quite manageable. We are talking about micro time being put in. 5 minutes here, 10 minutes there, never more than a half an hour. Simple right? And if it’s so damn difficult to get it all together, then start prioritizing. I don’t really have to go to the gym, and why the hell do I blog for?
So I get into a defence mode, often using reasons for those two recreations of mine, that are not in fact true. So let’s be honest. I go to the gym to get back in shape. Whatever people are saying that I should embrace my new mother figure, I don’t give a damn about. I want to get back into shape period. I love hitting the gym in the early hours of the morning but Reinout doesn’t. Yet it’s the only time of the day when I have the time (I’m up early anyway) and it gives me a kick start to the day. And this is something I need. So it gives me well being and de-stress me even before the stress started. Well there you have the arguments for that one.
My blog, which is lately not getting the attention it deserves, is another one. It’s true, it’s not important in the grand scheme of things, but it helps me to reflect on life and process emotions that probably would have been dealt with rather differently if I didn’t pen them down. An if all arguments fail, at least it keeps me out of the mental hospital, and that’s quite an effort by any standard!
Whilst I think about it, I realise I have to be clear on these two points. Training in the morning should be ok, and blogging for an hour too. For the rest, I promise I’m all yours…