“Oh, dear GOD, I am a lunatic!” I wasn’t belittling or abasing myself. No, this was more of an acknowledgement. Dear God, I am a LUNATIC.
I caught myself saying this while doing what so many kazillion of us do; multi-tasking. Although for me, ‘multi’ doesn’t cut it anymore. I came up with a new phrase (feel free to copy it!); MEGA-tasking.
Sometime after having a baby, I morphed into Dr. Bruce Banner’s version of a bad gamma radiation accident; I became a (dum dee dum dum DUM) MEGA-tasker. Unfortunately, I’m so busy starting and stopping these tasks that I’m not sure what I’m actually getting done.
Here’s a typical 10 minutes in my morning: Oooh coffee, yes please (turn on the previously prepared coffee pot and open the fridge to get the dark chocolate almond milk.) Hey, who put the salsa on that shelf? Trinity! Better move that or I won’t be able to concentrate. Oh, we’re almost of out of eggs, I need to write that on the grocery list (shut the fridge door leaving the almond milk in it).
(Open drawer behind the fridge, rifling through the millions of pens/pencils) Geez, why can’t I find ‘my’ pen when I want it? Where is it? Well damn it, did Trinity take it? Should I text him? That’s a bit extreme, Melissa. Just use another pen and make a mental note to ask the pen stealer later. You’ve wasted enough time looking for this one.
(As I’m grabbing a pencil, I look at the spot where our daughter eats) Ewww, gross. I forgot to wipe up the counter after dolly’s breakfast. Well, better get that done (put the pencil on the counter and turn towards the kitchen sink) but first I’ll put these dirty dishes in the dishwasher and WHAT is that smell? Egads! Is that ME?! No, it has to be Ceta. “Ceta, honey. Did you go potty?” “No poop momma.” ‘No poop momma’ my ass. I NEED to stop what I’m doing and change her diapers (I leave the dishwasher door wide open).
Three steps outside the kitchen, with child in arms, I see a puzzle in the middle of the hallway and know I need to put it away or I’ll be doing mach 2, step on it and pull a groiny. As I squat to put it away, I notice the recycling bin is overflowing. I put the child down, leave the puzzle and take the recycling outside.
On my way back into the house I stop to turn off the bathroom light and I see I didn’t put away the puzzle. I start towards it but then I glance into Ceta’s room where I see her clean laundry. I zip into her room, put away her clothes, pick up the multitude of blankets on the floor, refill her diapers and then remember to grab some clothes hangers.
As I’m leaving her room, I see the chaos that remains; the puzzle, the open dishwasher, the crumbs, yogurt and pencil on the counter. I realize I haven’t had my coffee and I haven’t changed my daughter’s diapers. I’ve also completely forgotten to write ‘eggs’ on the grocery list and chances are I won’t remember to do that. Instead, I’ll look at the pencil like it’s an alien and then blame Trinity for not putting it away.
Ok. Where was I? Oh yes, I have to corral my daughter again. Just follow the smell, Melissa. Stay on task. Don’t stop to pick up the socks or move the ‘beep beep’ toy out of the way. I may pay for that decision later when I’m not looking where I’m going, but for now, I leave it.
That, my friends, is literally about 10 minutes in my life. On a good day.
I’ve always been an efficient worker but lately it seems as if I get bright-shiny-objected (BSO) way too much. I always think it won’t take me long to pick up this or put away that but inevitably, it leads to something else that I feel needs my immediate attention NOW.
I’m also realizing that if I have five or ten minutes to myself, I don’t do something FOR myself. Nope. I opt to do menial chores or prep items for the following day. I’ve tried to sit for 3 minutes without pulling a Jack-In-The-Box and it doesn’t work. I think the longest I was able to sit still was about 90 seconds. Curses! It’s like an addiction! I try to see how long I CAN sit still, especially while I’m helping my daughter eat, but inevitably, I can’t sit still. Something needs my immediate attention (or so my brain thinks).
One of the very last things I want my daughter to inherit is my OCD. I don’t want her to think she has to fly around the house like a madwoman picking up this and putting away that. I want her to know that it’s perfectly fine to rest and do NOTHING. I want her to know the dust bunny by her feet will still be there when she’s done with her down time. I’m trying. I really, really am but this is a tough nut (pun intended!) to crack.
(What do you do to stop BSO’ing? I’d love to know and I’m sure other readers would be interested, too. Please post what works for you in the comment section.)