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I'm not there yet

You know, people say to me all the time, "Bustle, you are so organized. How do you do it???"

Actually, no, no one has ever said that to me, and I'm fairly certain no one has thought it either. And even if someone had maybe started beginning to wonder if I've got it all together, I've quickly kiboshed that tender, young notion with my Brene Brown style no-shame-authenticity.

For example:

I've started grocery shopping early Sunday mornings, and this Sunday morning I was up even earlier, so as I'm coasting into HEB at 7:40, I was mentally patting myself on the back, "Look at you, taking care of the family early in the morning, like some woman of valor eschet chayil (thank you, Rachel Held Evans). I was about 10 minutes into my shopping, barely out of Produce, when my phone rang. Hmm, my family is up awfully early to remind me of something that is not on my list. It's my husband, "Hey, Honey, Older Son found your wallet on the kitchen counter. Do you need it?" Sigh. "Only if I want to pay for these groceries." "Ok, I'll run it over." He met me in canned vegetables.

I had such plans for this year. September is really my New Year, and I set down all these goals and plans. January is more of a do-over, a time for reassessing what didn't work and trying to re-work it.

Frankly, I blame working. It gets in the way of all the shite that needs doing.

The worst part is how territorial I am of my time. Glennon Melton wrote about this in her blog, Momastery a couple of years ago, and it totally resonated with me.

Around 8:30 at night I start shutting down. I'm still awake, but I just stop responding. Whatever has not been cleaned up, will not get cleaned up. Whatever supplies have not been gathered for the next day, will not be gathered till tomorrow morning, probably with a lot of screeching and commotion. And whatever my kids have not bothered to tell me will just have to wait as well. "Hey, Mom!" at 8:45 at night is met with dead shark-eyes. "I think you should be in bed." "Hey, Mom!" "This is my screen time. Do I interrupt your computer game with stories of my day???" It's not like I haven't been around. I so want to hear about everyone's day. At 4:00 in the afternoon. Or at dinner. Those are both great times to share the details of what you're thinking and wondering and dreaming. Once it's dark, "sharing" is just a smokescreen for not wanting to go to bed. Don't think I don't know that.

Speaking of work, check out what I'm reading now:

Your Three Year Old: Friend or Enemy. Because I'm teaching 3 1/2 year olds this year, and that is a tricky age, loaded with disequilibrium and angst. And there's no getting around it, kids have to go through it. ("Can't go under it, can't go over it, have to go through it").

Maybe I'm in a state of disequilibrium as well? And when my students turn 4, I also will settle down into an adorable state of delightfulness? And thus, having attained equilibrium, I will now be Uber Together?

I'll let you know in January...

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