My life half-baked

When my husband and I started to date seriously, he was living halfway around the world from me. This was a complication in an already unconventional courtship but we got through it fine by being good planners and travelers. Having no other personal commitments beyond what it took to care for ourselves and with the advantages of generous vacation times at both our jobs, we ended up averaging a trip every month and a half for almost two years, before we made honest people of each other.

Did I mention yet that this feat required advance programming of the kind I excelled at? I was a successful planner. The kind of person who had her calendar locked up tight and good. I could tell you what I'd be doing six months in advance down to the week, sometimes even the day. I walked around with a palm pilot (the old time version of a blackberry) and a paper agenda for good measure. How come then, I barely succeed at getting out of the house these days without forgetting the kid's juice box or his nap mat? To see me now, you'd believe I'm the most disorganized human you've ever laid eyes on. I hardly manage to shower in the mornings and every accomplished task seems like it has happened by the skin of my teeth.

What's different? Truly? I'd like to say that having a baby changed everything and in a way, my son's existence is partly to blame for this malaise but if I have to point a finger, the actual culprit is my very own nature. I was always disorganized, I just hid it well and I fought against it constantly. With singular determination, I forged myself into something other than the true scatterbrain I am. It was like a straight jacket this organized persona of mine.

I've been told by my mother that I resemble her mother. With my own eyes, I've confirmed the truth of this. Grandmother and I, we start out a task and halfway through (sometimes not even that) something else calls out to us and off we go. By the time we come around to what we'd originally started with, time has passed and other semi-finished jobs litter the way.

Now where does my toddler fit into all this? He just makes it easier to get distracted. He's at an age where my main task is to put out fires with him. I haven't finished uttering the word no to something he shouldn't be doing when he turns around and does something else that elicits the same response. Under the circumstances, it's very hard to remain focused. My most productive times then are the early morning or the late at night moments. That's why I'm an early riser and a late sleeper. I'm finishing all my half-baked jobs.

What to do? Nothing much really, just keep on trucking. I'm beyond trying to return to that other self at this point. I'll continue to get everything done slowly and haphazardly but surely. No palm pilots, no agendas, only post-it notes like scattered breadcrumbs to show the way through the thicket of my tasks. Finding my head is a challenge but when I wake up in the mornings and find it still attached, I realize I've succeeded for yet another day.

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