Pinball Wizzard

I am trapped in a pinball machine and I can’t seem to escape.  I’m hoping that the return of the school day has arrived to rescue me and that the routine of life built around the strict schedule of school can suck me out of the endless ping-ponging from thing to thing that has become my life this summer.

It goes a little like this, pull back the spring-loaded handle and launch me into another summer day.

I walk into the kitchen to add butter to my grocery list. But before I can get it written down, I notice the milk has once again been left out on the counter.

Then I see the dirty dishes stacked at a dangerously helter skelter angle and rush to avert disaster.

The phone rings to say I can reschedule the dog’s grooming appointment so I go to write that on the calendar, but am distracted by yesterday’s laundry folded and in my way.

I shout out that we’re going to be putting away laundry now, and recruit the boys to help but have to kick shoes out of my way to get through the doorway and have to break up a wrestling match as I head upstairs. 

Laundry basket in hand, in my own room, I see there is plenty more to be put away there.

That’s when I see the book I’ve been reading on my bedside table and bring it downstairs, fully intending to carve out an hour to myself to dive into a chapter or two. 

Coming down the stairs I notice the bills waiting by the computer to be paid, but after I log on I see an email with the required forms I need to fill out for one of the boy’s sports teams.

Unfortunately, there’s no time to fill them out now because I need to run someone somewhere again and as long as I’m out I plan to stop by the bank, and grocery store too.

Construction closed the road in front of the bank so I have to find an alternate route, and I have to make two trips to the car at the grocery store because I forgot my cloth reusable bags.

Then I notice we also need gas.

Finally I head home, humming and mentally catching up on all I’ve accomplished.  But before I can even pat myself on the back I see a “tumble weed” of hair dancing along the kitchen floor because the dog is literally shooting out hair in clumps.  I make a second trip to the calendar to actually write down the grooming change.

I quick grab the vacuum only to discover that every light in the house has been left on.

Both kids have practice so no family dinner tonight.  Instead everyone grabs something for himself, and we jump back into the car.

We finally catch up while we see the Brewers win before we all fall into bed exhausted.  I remember I forgot to read.

This morning driving to an early appointment John calls minutes after I’ve left home.

“Mom, I can’t find the butter.”

I rub my forehead.

“I forgot to write it on the grocery list,” I explain to him. “We are out of butter.”

“I already made toast!” he says.  “How can we be out of butter?”

I can honestly answer, “I don’t know.”

I say this realizing that was one of the main reasons I went to the grocery store, and should have been the top thing on my list.

All I can do is shake my head and drive…or roll really, as I am catapulted between the knobby pegs and sucked into the pitfalls of life inside a pinball machine where you travel a lot of miles but never really get anywhere. 

But I do have butter on my list.