Routine Procedure

We’ve been through more than our share of health stuff, doctor visits, speech therapy appointments, broken arm stuff, hurt backs, babies, stitches, casts and bed rest.

And every time we start down one of those roads the doc in charge says something like, “Don’t worry, it’s a routine procedure.” Each time I hear this I think two things: 1) maybe for you buddy and 2) I hate routine!

As an artsy fartsy type I enjoy my share of spontaneity. I like blowing off responsible things to go do fun things. I enjoy not knowing where the day will take me. Laissez les bons temps rouler! That’s New Orleans for let the good times roll.  

Sidebar: don’t use this phrase in France-they’ll laugh at you. And if my mom the French professor is reading this, please don’t correct my spelling. 

What was I saying? Oh yes, routines. There are dance routines, morning routines, exercise routines. There are daily routines and something called a routine activities theory that has to do with the study of crime. And there’s the aforementioned routine procedure.

Somewhere along the way to adulthood, I got the idea in my head that routine is bad. Limiting. Difficult to stick with and frankly, a creativity crusher. 

And then I had four kids.

Trying to be awesome and fun and artsy and spontaneous with four kids is anything but routine. It’s hard and I admit, I have not mastered it. In fact, with all of these beautiful little kids running around, I have felt the need to figure out this routine thing. Yep, I said it. I need a routine.

Because without some semblance of a plan around here, things start falling apart and Mama doesn’t have any time for herself. I start getting very cranky. Both from not being able to do stuff I want/like/need to do and from not being able to herd all these cats kids through our days. Seriously, some days I would swear to you there were at least 10 children living under my roof.

I used to watch The A-Team when I was a kid. There was this eclectic mix of people that brought all different kinds of talents to the table. And something always exploded. They were your basic hero vigilantes for justice. 

Sounds a lot like my family. Except we’re not on the lam for a crime we didn’t commit. And only one of us has any military training. Oh, and generally we frown on things exploding. But we each have something to bring to the family table. And we work hard. Sometimes even towards the same goal. And if I got my butt in gear and did a little planning, who knows what we could accomplish?

It’s possible we could rule the world.

I love it when a plan comes together.

(Photo credit

Copyright Meredith Shafer 2015


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