I’ve really overdone it the last couple of days. My sink breaking caused the dishes the back up more than usual, so I’ve been playing catch up. Between that and Mount Washmore, carting the boy to and fro, helping with homework, trying to keep up on my own homework, and just the general stuff of life, I simply crash. Not at the end of the day, mind you, but at 5 p.m. when I get home. My naps are rarely less than two hours long, so I’m out of pocket during a fairly crucial time. (What time isn’t crucial when you have a young family?) Dinner gets pushed back, making bedtime way off. This isn’t good for someone striving to be consistent with routines.
Routines. I hate them. But I need them. And I hate that I need them. I’ve never been consistent with anything in my life. I’m impulsive and easily distracted, yet I have little endurance. Even with meds. If it were just me, I probably wouldn’t try so hard to change this. But with my son being so young and having special needs, though not severe, routines make life more predictable for him and give him some sense of control.
I would love to be able to push a button automatically be the person I want to be without going through the torture of routine. What would be on my list? I’d be tidier and more organized. I’d take the time to read instead of vegging out in front of the TV. I’d get together with my friends. Be better at marriage and motherhood. I’d actually do what’s on my list instead of making another list.
I would remember where I am instead of where I was. I would tell myself I’m doing fine. I’m doing what I can. I’m where God has placed me. Where He wants me right now. Seeking Him. Like the promise of Matthew 6:33: “But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.” Letting Him direct my days instead of feeling mired down my my to-dos and unrealistic expectations. If I’m to aim my consistency at something, that would be it. All the rest will follow.