My son’s report card often comes back with the advice to practice listening. I think what the teacher probably means is that he should go beyond selective listening. My son actually listens too well to whatever serves him well. You just don’t know it until a few weeks later. Here is how that works.

I wake up to a light ploink ploink sound on Saturday morning. When I walk down the stairs to the basement, I see my daughter throwing medium size screws, one by one, into an empty laundry basket. My husband is measuring wood for his latest project - building a shoe rack. Guilt is dripping from his face.

My little one turns two on Friday. For each kid’s birthday, the daycare teachers typically share pictures of impressive cupcake towers, with extra accolades if the cupcakes are home-made. I feel the pressure. I hear a little voice in my head say that if I want my little girl to have a good birthday, she needs home-baked cupcakes.

Five minutes after my husband left to the airport for a three-day conference, I discovered red spot under my little one’s chin. The day prior, she’d had a fever that seemingly came out of nowhere and disappeared equally sudden. Hand, foot, and mouth disease. Perfect. We could rule out daycare for the rest of the week

Two things happened in the six weeks after New Years. The first is that my two MBA courses started. The second is that I finished the first draft of my book. Between teaching preps, being in class, my admin role, and about seven research projects, there really wasn’t a lot of time to write up the final two interviews.

On New Year’s Eve I got even more self-time. I was going to pick up my son on January 1st and drive him up to the cabin for our second week of vacation. A full evening and morning to myself!

My husband convinced me that normal families take a two-week vacation around Christmas and New Year’s. It would be fun. I tried to ignore the red flag waving vigorously in a corner of my brain. Let’s try to be a normal family then.

My in-laws celebrated their 50th anniversary this Fall. My father-in-law dislikes big parties and opulent festivities. My mother-in-law is quite the opposite. So they agreed on celebrating exceptionally but just family, at their favorite vacation spot.

Every November I wonder why BC has not gotten the balls yet to get rid of daylights savings time. They seem to be waiting for Washington to make the move. Daylight savings sucks. It sucks even more if you have little ones who don’t change their bedtime and wake up time flexibly.

After my husband had been away most of the week for a teambuilding event for his work, I packed my bag (laundry basket, if I’m honest) and drove off to our cabin on Friday night. A full weekend of boundaryless working lay ahead of me, topped off with an outdoor day on Monday.

This morning, I walked to the petting farm in our neighborhood with my 1.5yo. It was a beautiful fall day, 9 degrees and sunny. When we got there at 9:30am it turned out that the Fall opening hours had started. The farm wouldn’t open until 10am. I maneuvered the stroller to the playground adjacent to the farm and my little one roamed around happily.

I sometimes feel like I’m in some odd contest of getting daily tasks done within a limited timeframe, but with extra obstacles. Daily tasks can be as simple as taking a shower or making dinner. The time frame is dictated by the start of school, a work meeting, or bedtime. The obstacles are generously provided by my kids.

On Sunday night, my phone started acting up. It seemed to automatically open apps and press buttons beyond my control. By Monday morning, I had figured out that the swipe up function of my iPhone was not working anymore, and by noon I had narrowed down the issue to a desensitized lowest strip of the touch screen.

After our 18-month-old was done with her stomach bug, it was my turn. We were on day 3 of what was supposedly our vacation. At 9am, I had a work call on a student matter that couldn’t be postponed until after my vacation. At the end of that meeting, I stayed on with a colleague for a few minutes. She asked me if everything was alright. Because I looked a little off, and my background looked like I was in the hospital.

We are on day 4 of a nasty stomach bug with our 1.5-year-old. My husband got it first. It took him eight days to clear it and he was basically non-functional for half of those days. My little one threw up over his feet the day after he was fully recovered. One big waterfall of white milk on the floor. Then a few instant returns of food we tried to feed her at dinner. No thank you - this stomach isn’t open for food at the moment.

My husband and I consider ourselves planners. We sit together on Sunday night and discuss who does drop offs and pickups each day that week. Yet, there is always a moment (or two) in the week on which we realize there is not enough food in the fridge for tomorrow’s breakfast or dinner. If we are such skilled planners, why can’t we get our act together for groceries?