Overscheduled: Adult Diapers Aren’t Just For Old People

Well, it’s official.  Our family is completely overscheduled.  Overbooked.  Overworked.  Underpaid!  Blah, blah, blah – you get the picture.  I barely have time to pee.  My latest resort?  Depends.  There’s nothing like the warm flow of urine between your legs to make you realize you suck at scheduling … and probably life.


*plus, you get the added bonus of comfort and security!!!

It doesn’t sound that bad when I spell it out.  Munch has soccer, AD has boy scouts, and Guy has boy scouts and baseball.  I mean, that really doesn’t sound completely unmanageable.  There are people that are WAAAAAY busier.  People with more kids, more activities, more anger management issues, and way more venereal diseases.  Wait, huh?

And yet …

I had a meltdown of epic proportions on Saturday that had me texting the Hubs, “I. NEED. HELP.” in as desperate a font as I could find (and I do find that fonts are definitely not desperate enough) plus had my son mention to me that a stress ball might help me … because apparently that solves all stress related problems.  Certainly throwing it at people things might help, I guess.

It’s embarrassing, really.  I should be able to handle this shit.  But I am in constant fear that I am forgetting something.  I must look at my watch 87 times a day and check my Cozi calendar 106.  As if something is just going to show up randomly, put in by some electronic douchebag who thinks I need one more thing on my schedule?  I will find you, electronic douchebag, and I WILL cut you.

I know I’m not the only one.  My friend has been putting reminders on her phone to the point that I hear it dinging every 30 seconds.  “What was that reminder for?” I ask, practically panicking for her.  “That’s a reminder that I need to put in all of my reminders for the day,” she mumbles … as she falls to the ground sobbing.  Oh wait.  That was me.

Everything must be scheduled now.  I didn’t have breakfast on the schedule this morning and I couldn’t figure out why, at 10am, I was so cranky … and by cranky I mean I threw all the dirty laundry out into the yard and lit it on fire.  Apparently I need a reminder to remind me to eat breakfast.  And don’t you worry your pretty little head.  I made up for it with 14 cupcakes.  I don’t do hunger.

My irritation level has sky rocketed as well.  I’m on a fixed timeline, people!  I can’t have grandpa with a cane crossing the street in front of me when I have to be at school in T minus 3 minutes.  Come on!!!

“Move out of the way, old Yeller!!” I scream out the window … and by “scream out the window” I mean scream in my head … all the while keeping a smile on my face because god forbid any mom appear anything but calm, cool, and collected.

nervous breakdown

The amount of curse words screeched silently in my brain on a daily basis is making me wonder if, when I’m elderly and senile, those will be the only words my brain remembers.  I’m thinking I’m not going to be a favorite at the nursing home.  Maybe I should start that apology letter now.

Seriously, I’m starting to crack.  Three days without a shower?  That’s kind of pushing it, don’t you think?  Especially when I’m hanging out with disease ridden kids it’s flu season.  I haven’t sat on my couch since last Tuesday and that was only to collapse into a 30 second melodramatic fit before having to pick up Munch from soccer.  I need to make my car a wifi hot spot because that’s not only where I get everything done, but also where I live.  Plus I do really enjoy checking Pinterest.

“Keep it together” is the new mantra I mutter from dawn til dusk in an attempt to stay calm … that and “what the FUCK is wrong with people?” – but I keep that one on the DL.  The kids have been watching me lately like I’m a ticking time bomb so I’m pretty sure that’s not working.  Anyone else fucking up their kids?  Those prisons aren’t going to fill themselves!

Anyhoo, this Saturday there is official blankness on the calendar.  Nothing.  Nada.  It’s almost disconcerting.  In fact, it IS disconcerting.  The Hubs has already started talking about what we can do that day … he will find a way to overachieve if it kills him.  I told him I’m setting a reminder on my phone for Saturday.  It will say …

Reminder: Do nothing. (But FYI, Sunday’s gonna be a shitshow)


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