Impeccable Timing

My kids have impeccable timing. When someone comes over to my house, inevitably one of my children will walk in wearing underwear on his head or slide down the stairs inside a laundry hamper and arrive at my feet mere inches away from my guest. They remember that “really important” school project is due the next morning just as I’m brushing my teeth to go to bed, and they also remember that they haven’t done any work on it yet. My son told me the morning we were walking out the door to church that his church shoes were so small that his toes were folded up like a ballerina’s. And my other son told me just this morning that he has no jeans that meet the school dress code since he has put holes in the knees of every single one.


My children are under no illusion that I’m terribly organized and can track vast amounts of information using only my brain and yet they seem to think that I will look at their big feet (after they’ve thrown their dirty socks across the room) and I will automatically calculate their approximate shoe size, swiftly determine that they are in need of larger shoes, and make a mental note to purchase the shoes at our next shopping venture. Apparently they haven’t watched me shop. When we run out of milk, I do a little inventory, make a list and I methodically work my way around the store in a grid-like pattern, checking off stuff. Then I look at my list again, realize that I’ve missed several items and I backtrack to pick them up. When I’m in the cat food aisle, I realize that I walked right past the syrup when I was in the cereal aisle so then I have to head back to cereal while pushing an overloaded cart that’s threatening to spill like the Grinch’s stolen sleigh of toys. I criss-cross the store like a bee in a blindfold and realize that I never picked up the milk that prompted this insane shopping trip only after I’ve arrived home. The fact that I was supposed to also remember to pick up dress shoes and jeans is so ridiculous that it’s laughable.

I’ve tried carrying an organizer with to-do lists that are supposed to be carefully prioritized to maximize my productivity. Generally this lasted about a day before I would be too tired to prioritize my checklist and I’d fall asleep before I could even started writing the checklist in the first place. Plus the dang things were so heavy that I had to add chiropractor appointments to my list. Electronic organizers didn’t fair any better. Apparently you have to put reliable information into the device if you want reliable information to spit out.

So I guess that leaves me with my real life. It’s seven o’clock I’m just arriving home to find that my husband, who knew I was working late and promised to feed the children, has dropped two boxes of frozen pizza onto the counter. I start pre-heating the oven, my purse still on my shoulder, when my son walks up to me. “Mom, you promised we’d go jean shopping. Let’s go.”

Sadly, I didn’t write that appointment down anywhere and so I’ll have to reschedule. I’ll probably remember to schedule that shopping trip tomorrow when I get a call from the School Principle.