Slap It On, Move Them Out

Despite a hectic weekend of soccer games and piano recitals, I somehow managed to get a second coat of paint on the desk cabinets for the other side of the window. Now on their second week in the garage--and taking up the space where my husband usually parks his truck--they nagged me each time I jumped into the car on yet another errand. I finally got to them tonight, just before dark, arriving simultaneously with the mosquitoes.

I don't know why I put off simple things like this for so long. I spend more time worrying about doing them than it takes to perform the tasks. For instance, it took me about 30 minutes to slap a second coat of paint on those cabinets, including the time to get out my tools and strain the paint. (That is one job I would just as soon never have to do again.) I could've done the painting four or five times this week after work, or even early Saturday morning. But I kept putting it off. The worst part is, the paint takes 24 hours to dry before I can top coat it. So the longer I procrastinate, the longer my project takes.

I've got the same problem with the kitchen valances. One section is cut and just waiting for me to sew four simple, straight seams. Nothing fancy, these curtains. Just plain toppers that will hang from drapery clips. I don't even have to sew a rod pocket! But the fabric has been sitting on my guest room bed for at least two weeks now, an unwanted reminder each time I pass by the open door that I've got one more thing to do.

If I sat down right now, it would probably take me 30 minutes, tops, to knock that out. An hour for both windows. The most time would be consumed by threading the sewing machine and pressing the final product. Yet, still it sits, and so do I.

There's got to be some psychological reasoning behind all this, but I don't know what it is. Why are some people able to focus on one task at a time and complete it while others, like me, try to juggle a million things at once and hardly finish any of them? I don't think I'm afraid to finish a project--I yearn for that feeling of achievement and completion! But I feel pulled in so many directions, so many demands on my time.

Maybe that's an unavoidable byproduct of motherhood. As a general rule, mothers, more than fathers, seem to be responsible for a larger number of different tasks in the household--not to mention their jobs outside the home. I'm the primary child caregiver, which means I also am the chauffeur to piano lessons, soccer practices and games, sleepovers, pet-sitting jobs, haircut appointments, doctor appointments, dentist appointments, orthodontist appointments, optometrist appointments, etc. I also am the household manager, responsible for bill paying, grocery shopping, and making sure that anything we need from the store is in our pantry or medicine cabinet. Even when the car needs fixing, though my husband is an excellent automotive troubleshooter, I'm the one who takes it to the shop--and waits, and waits, and waits for it. That's because I'm the primary driver; he has a company vehicle. But it still takes time. Even now, as we seek bids on replacing our siding and renovating a bathroom, I'm the one who's making all the calls, meeting with the estimators, and nagging them when they don't call back with the promised figures.

Don't get me wrong--my husband does a lot. He's here to get the kids off to school on the two mornings I leave for the office early. He also does his share of the laundry (he won't let me TOUCH his shirts) and does cooking duty on weekends. He handles the heaviest lawn care tasks, like leaf blowing and trimming, while we share the lawnmowing, raking, etc. Yet, I still feel that I'm the one whose Daytimer is her life and breath.

Maybe I need to go back to kindergarten to learn how to focus on one thing at a time--oh wait, I never went to kindergarten! I just started at first grade. Perhaps that's my problem.

I wonder if it's too late to register for the fall semester.