Someone Commit Me

No, don't. I'm already over-committed.

Actually, I'm not. Here's where I bite the bullet and admit that I am plain lazy. I like sitting at home. I like not having anything scheduled. I like not having to get dressed, because I am going nowhere during the days. I know this makes me sort of pathetic. I don't care.

But when an even is far in the future, I can ignore those preferences and say, "Sure! I'll provide a meal/watch your kids/host a play date/come to this meeting. " The farther in the future, the more likely I am to do it. This is probably good, because it pulls me out of my anti-social little shell. But today, I am cursing myself for being seven different kinds of fool.

Months ago, Drama Queen volunteered to help with our church's Art Camp. Instead of Vacation Bible School, our church puts on a week long art extravaganza. There are all sorts of subjects, dance, painting (oil, watercolor and acrylic), woodworking, culinary arts, drama, creative writing...the list goes on and on. It's a great time and seems like fun. But the prospect of driving her there and picking her up was bumming me out. So when one of the women in our not-so-small group needed people to help watch the children of volunteers, I said I would.

The logic is clear. I'll be driving out anyway, so it saves me gas and time. The little ones come with me and have a fun day of playing with others. I meet some different people in our enormous church and make some new friends. Winning, all the way around.

I had no idea how tired I would be. It's like an extra-long preschool workday, five days in a row. I am exhausted. Why do I do this to my poor, lazy self? It's just one thing, and I'm not scheduling anything else the rest of the weeks, except haircuts for the kids tomorrow. I wouldn't even do that, except Red is bearing a startling resemblance to Napoleon Dynamite and Missy can't see for her bangs.

Here's to survival.