The Imperfect Mother’s Guide to Managing Extracurriculars

I don’t know her name. It was the first time that we met. Her being a complete stranger did nothing to prevent me from inserting my foot directly in my mouth.

We were talking kids’ schedules at Ant’s first swim class. This was not her child’s first swim class. This conversation had developed from, “How awesome are these swim lessons? How awesome is this town?” and somehow we ended up in the DANGEROUS TERRITORY.

Her: Oh, did your son do summer school as well? My child was more than ready for summer school to be over. 

Me: He sure did! But I have to say, we’re lucky that Ant still enjoys school. I’ve been afraid he would model his older, brooding, teenage brother. 

Her: Ah, I hear you! So, what else have you planned for his summer? I’ve put my child in x, y, and z. 

Me (and this is where it gets dicey, folks): Oh, well, I make my kids choose one thing to do at a time. I don’t want burn out.

Her: Oh. Crickets.

Me: You know how it is! If I’m feeling overwhelmed and worn out, you can only imagine how they are feeling!

Her: Ah, I can understand that!

Me (see the foot coming?): It was like I was telling the brooding teenager the other night—Yes, I know it’s summer, but I actually do need you to go to bed at a decent time, because I actually enjoy being Sarah on occasion, and not mom or employee or maid or chauffeur. I only ask for 30 minutes at the end of each day, and I can’t be that—I can’t unwind from my day-- if you are still scuttling around the house after ten at night! 

Her (in what I imagine is her best tsk-tsk voice): Oh. Well I don’t think you should have said that at all. Now he’s going to think that you don’t want him around!

Oy!

The problem is, at ten at night, I don’t want him around. I love my kids, but I do not live EXCLUSIVELY for my kids. There are other parts of me who occasionally like to see the light of day. It’s a major reason why my kiddos still have to follow bedtimes in the summer and why I limit them to only one extracurricular activity. I like to see my husband. I like to read. I like to watch TV. I like to talk to my friends. I do not like the teenager tromping up and down the stairs while I try to watch Jon Stewart or Weeds at the end of the day. I want some peace—just a little bit, please.

This conversation got me to thinking; is it just me? Am I being selfish? Other parents seem to handle time management and multiple activities and continual children-ness with ease. Are we lazy?

We’re not lazy. We each have our one activity, and that makes four. Nothing else will fit. Who, in this world, can REALLY schedule one child for four different summer activities at once?

That’s when I Googled time management for parents, and realized that while there is stuff on the internet about time management and keeping track of extra activities, they all come down to the same basic premises: Learn to say no. Plan ahead. Keep track of everything.

Well, that’s easier said than done, isn’t it? I think it’s time for an imperfect mother’s take on coordinating schedules and managing time…

Learn to say no:

Mission accomplished. Don’t believe me? Ask my kids. They tell me that I say no all the time. I said no to swim AND karate. Pick one. He picked. He’s happy, and I’m happy, despite the fact that the chlorine from the pool has infiltrated my pores, and I smell like swim lessons every day.  That is part of my imperfectness, now.

Plan ahead:

Let’s talk about some planning ahead that actually makes sense. Remember before you had children, when your car seemed like an extension of your personality? Well, now it’s an extension of your house. Live in it. If you’re like me, you invariably forget something you planned to take with you any time you leave the house (library books, lunch, umbrella, you name it). If it won’t melt, rot, or smell up the car (or draw vermin, must not forget the vermin), leave it in the car. Buy some bins or backpacks, and place everything they need for the week in there.  Ant’s clean swim trunks and towels are in the car, waiting, at the beginning of each week. He wears the wet ones inside (mildew smells), and we grab the dirty clothes later in the week. Last year, I literally hauled around baseball gear for three months, in the trunk. We never forgot it! If there are some items that have to go in each week, pick the least busy day, and make it a family affair to pull the crap out of the car and pack new crap in the car.

Oh, and if you keep a book in there, you will have one to read when you invariably forget the one you planned to bring along while the kid’s at guitar. It’s like special car toys—also good for long road trips.

When it comes to converged schedules, make sure to communicate who is going to do what. Example: If I’m taking the kid to swimming lessons, and you’re my husband, you better believe that I’m telling you that you’re in charge of dishes, and throwing in a load of laundry. I’ve found that it’s nicer to ask—Are you taking the kid to swim lessons, or doing the dishes? It’s a win-win for me. If I take the kid, I get out of dishes. If I get the dishes, I crank up the music and have a beer while doing the dishes.

And dinners? Well, we all know how I feel about children chipping in around the kitchen! Besides that, I have Chipotle, with their vegetables my children will eat, and a website that allows me to order food, show up 20 minutes later, when I’m heading out of work, and bring it home. If Chipotle is not an option, I suggest getting creative with the leftovers. My personal favorite is to put whatever leftovers you may have in a tortilla wrap (it works more often than you think!). Flatbread pizzas will work as well, and I’ve heard that cheese makes everything better!

Seriously, you cannot have too many tortillas on hand, and cheese is my favorite food.

Keep track of everything:

The imperfect mother may have had a dalliance or two with home organization to keep the post-it notes, permission slips and schedules under control, but she finally gave up the Martha Stewart or Palm Pilot ideals for the one that actually works for her family. Let me put it another way—sticking something on the refrigerator is not going to help me see it. Putting something on the desk ensures that J won’t see it. Having a special place for all this stuff is just begging for us to forget that we even made a special place for all this stuff. You know where everyone will eventually end up during the day? The kitchen table. Right beside the kitchen table is a ledge which is the perfect sixe for calendars, notes, and permission slips. Sure, it looks like crap, but we see it. If you come over to our house, you need to promise that you don’t, though.

A word to the wise:

Even a seasoned imperfect parent can run across a person or situation that makes them paranoid about their abilities or feel like crap. Comparing yourself to others sucks. If you run across another parent whose schedule or advice has you feeling two inches tall, ignore them-- even if it’s me or my advice. There’s no reason to try to do something just because you think you should. You will hate it and your kids will hate it. You have to do what works for you, as perfect or imperfect as that may be.