I’ve resolved to get organized and develop better habits for 2019. I woke at 5 a.m., according to my new regimen, where I can catch a little “me time” and plan my day.

My son—who normally wakes at 7:30 a.m.—has started to jump on the “early riser” bandwagon. Upstairs I go to get him at 5:30. I try, hopelessly to put him back to sleep. Defeat? No. I will just set him up for breakfast and I’ll tune him out for a moment while I start planning.

Okay. Grocery store. A little miscellaneous shopping, perhaps for a blind for the kitchen—man the one we have is driving me nuts.

Here comes kid number two. Wait for it. Yes. there’s the complaint about the food selection in the cupboards. No Goldfish? No cookies? If I had a nickel for every time they said that, I’d be rich. Maybe if they want Goldfish for their lunches everyday, they wouldn’t put half the dang bag in their lunch on the first day of the week.

Grocery. How many times have I been to the grocery this week? Saturday for a quick run. Sunday for a school shop. It’s now Wednesday. But I did send my husband last night as well. This is out of control!

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Oh dear. My son is making quite a mess with his cereal. Okay, he dumped it all out. Where did all my tea towels go? Okay. I’m going to pick some up today. And also a list so I stop forgetting what to get while I’m at the store.

Kids are fine. They ate something. They packed their lunches and are off to school. Now I’ll load my son in the car and run errands.

Dang I really should have written a list. Dollar store. Grocery store. Got it. As I pull up to the dollar store, I realize my son’s diaper is full. Where is the stash I usually keep in the car? Oh dear. Guess I’m going to have to make this a quick run.

I reach the dollar store and I manage to pick up a list. I browse a little more. What else did I need here? Tin foil! Got it.

Off to the grocery. Cheese. Fruit. Goldfish. Pancake mix. Check, check, check. Son is still okay in his diaper. Let’s get home before this becomes a problem.

I pull in the driveway and see a note on the door. It’s Purolator. I’ve forgotten I was to accept a package today. It’s a temperature sensitive delivery. Oh great. I change my son’s diaper and get in the car with the delivery notice. I wonder if the delivery person has dropped our package off at the main office yet. Dang, I really should have checked the pickup time before I left.

I arrive. The delivery person hasn’t delivered the package to the main office yet.  Oh well. At least I got to talk to a real person and not an answering service.

I pull in the driveway, again. This time my husband is waiting for me. “Did you forget we needed to switch cars this afternoon?”

“No,” I reply as the memory of this previous conversation rushes to my mind. I don’t usually lie but I needed to recoup some dignity from my forgetfulness.

I bring in the groceries and my extra bags. Ah, the tea towels. Where’d I put that list?