dear diary

Yesterday was a prime example of too many activities, too few parents. Dan was on his 24-hour shift first of all, leaving me in charge of everything at the home front. That usually isn't so much an issue, but when you have four things scheduled for the exact same time, well, it's problematic.

Cameron's first baseball game and Ethan's Kindergarten Roundup were the two I really had a hard time deciding on--Ethan's t-ball practice and a last minute church activity were getting tabled.

I decided the priority was Cam's first game. And since the game was supposed to end at 6:30, I thought if I really hustled, we could make it to the last 15 minutes of kindergarten roundup.

So, it had already been a weird kind of emotional day--my aunt passing, my best friend in the hospital with possible sepsis, and other things--but we marched on to the game. Cameron is young, the youngest on the team, so his immaturity shows. He sits down, plays in the dirt, walks too slow, doesn't pay attention, frustrates me to no end, but as they finished the third inning and the full hour, I felt relief in knowing we might be able to scurry out and head over to the kindergarten thing. Then another inning started. And then another! Come to find out coach-pitch games for this age group are an hour and a half. I wouldn't have been frustrated if Cameron was at least playing right and doing well, but he was being so goofy; I got discouraged.

As we finally left (long after Ethan's event was over) I couldn't help but get emotional in the car. We'd just missed the last kindergarten registration I'd ever be able to attend for one of my kids--Ethan's first venture as a future elementary school student, and my last "first" as a parent. Such a silly stupid thing, but I couldn't help just crying hot tears as I drove home, questioning my decision and my desire to do it all with the only two hands God gave me.

Sometimes there's no right or wrong answer...there's just a choice to be made and you deal with the consequences of your decision. Ethan won't know what he's missed. I'll register him for school in the office without him, sometime next week. But I know, as a parent. These little tugs on my uterus are killer these days.

Ridiculous.

Unnecessary.

Pointless.

Human.

Natural.

I worked out some crazy killer turbodance last night, putting into it every ounce of any disappointment in myself, sadness over missing a little one's event, and frustration over the whole dumb day.