








Most weeks, through some combination of the grace of God, good karma, and sheer luck, Bryan and I manage to pull-off the "two working parent" gig with something that at least
passes for success.
Not so last week.
It was bad...like, say, if I had to give myself a parenting "grade" for last week, it would be a big, fat fail. A goose egg. Zip, zero, nada. I won't go into too much (boring) detail, but let's just say there were missed school performances and forgotten school projects and just general suckage.
In fairness it
was a particularly frenetic week (at least by first world standards), as I had two consecutive evening work events, Bryan had a training course that had him locked in a conference room from 8-5 each day, and (between both girls) there were three school projects, one Spanish club performance, one pre-k St. Patrick's Day performance, one St. Patrick's day party, one commitment to volunteer on a four-hour field trip to the aquarium and one commitment to read to the class. Wait, that's a lot of boring details, and I said there wouldn't be boring details... Sorry.
I know we all have to contend with this issue of balance, and I
definitely know there are so many folks out there that have much, much crazier lives than mine, but I still feel like a massive fail when a week like that happens... So I spent the weekend trying to re-group. The four of us hunkered down and painted rocks and ate ice cream and huddled on the couch watching movies and played in the yard and made occasional forays out into the world together for quick peeks into a shop or two before retreating to our couch fort for more lazy goodness.
By last night (when we were all piled on the couch again yep, watching a movie and eating ice cream) I felt like I was at a B+ again. Doing the best I possibly could and hanging on for dear life.