Thought it was sorted …

Ah, what I love about life is its unpredictability.

You know, where you think you have it all sorted, and you’ve filled in the diary and family calendar and sit back, take a sip of wine and think “right, sorted!” And do a bit of an internal jig of happiness. You can’t do one out loud and standing up cos you’re just looked at what your week now entails and you’re completey exhausted.


Yup, Little Miss Control Freak here filled out her diary, including all the stuff the kids had going on after school. Seconds later, gymnastics ring. They have to cancel the class cos they’re aren’t enough kids in it. Well, my kid is the only kid, to be more precise.

Options for other classes clash with guitar, or possibly other kid’s basketball. Ring around to find out other class times for guitar. Can’t do much till speak with Monkey Boy to discuss.

Sorted. Again.

Discover Grumpy Pants’ work hours now clash with toddler swimming lessons. This means the role of Parent At Toddler Swimming Lessons falls on my shoulders. I hope I can keep those shoulders down, cos my underarms are in need of a seeing to with 100ccs of hot wax. Let’s not speak of my legs.

Means I also need to be more vigilant in scheduling the meetings with hot wax.


So … as at this point (except for the legs) I am, once again, Sorted!

My rule for being sorted? Use a pencil.

My ESSENTIAL for keeping my stress levels down, and knowing who I am at what time of day are my Mayhem Managers – without whom I literally fall into a pit of self-deprecation. It’s not fun down there.

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