Man plans.
“Man plans, God laughs.”
True. Very true. And wise. Buuuut, I’d like to make just this one teeny, tiny modification to that proverb.
“Man plans, our kids laugh.”
Or even something like “Man plans, our kids laugh…in our faces, then get sick, throw a tantrum, and light the house of fire so that the plans you spent so long planning don’t ever fucking happen.”
If you aren’t familiar with the Yiddish proverb, “Man plans, God laughs.”, it’s basically saying that no matter how much control we think we have, we really don’t have any. We can plan all day long, but most things in life are completely out of our hands. This is the exact same scenario when you relate it to kids and babies.
My husband works 12-14 hour days through the holidays. We have a barbershop, so this is our busiest time of year. We’ve been ships passing in the night, only exchanging quick hellos and goodbyes, and if time allows, short recaps of our days. Last week Michael’s last client rescheduled, so he was able to get home in time to put our two year old, Mickey, to bed.
We had it all planned out. I’d feed the baby and get him to bed, while Michael handled the toddler. Then, once they were asleep, he and I could finally spent some much needed one-on-one time together. He headed upstairs to start her bedtime routine. Once I got Ozzy down, I poured a glass of wine. I made popcorn. And I got the latest season of 90 Day Fiancé, ready to go. (My husband and my quality time is watching TLC and bravo reality tv together - don’t judge.)
As I sat there, mindlessly scrolling through my phone, I realized a significant amount of time had past since my husband began his mission to get Mickey to sleep as quickly as possible. As I made my way up the stairs, I heard snoring. He had passed out with her. I thought about waking him, but then realized how badly he needed the rest. I covered him up, and went downstairs.
A couple hours later he came running down the stairs, panicked. He was so upset that he had fallen asleep. He kept saying “But that wasn’t the plan!”
I explained to him that through the course of a normal day, 99% of the “plans” I try to carry out, don’t come anywhere near fruition. We now have a higher power, living in our homes, and I’m not talking about God. I’m talking about another great force; our children.
If I know we have an early appointment, I’ll plan and prep to the absolute best of my ability. I’ll pack lunches the night before, have the diaper bag ready to go, gas in the car, breakfast already set out and ready to make, outfits are laid out with backup options on deck. I shower the night before, because "planning” to get myself ready with two kids is just a fantasy at this point.
Fast-forward to the next morning; Mickey is dressed and ready to go. She’s been an absolute saint. Teeth are brushed, her backpack is on, now all I have to do is get Ozzy’s diaper changed, and we’re gold. I’ve naively believed my planning and prepping has worked. I beat the system. I was the one in power.
Mid-diaper change, Ozzy pees all over my shirt. Okay, quick change, no biggie. We can handle that. Got him dressed, myself changed, just have to grab my toddler, and we’re off.
Wait. Hold on. It’s been really quiet while I was changing the baby’s diaper. A little too quiet…
I walk into the bathroom to find Mickey has pumped out an entire container of conditioner onto her hands, the bathroom floor, and all over clothes, shoes and coat. Okay the little Demi god almost beat me. I grab the backup clothes and make a quick change. Time to walk out the door.
Oh no. The seam of her sock isn’t hitting her toes right in her shoe. And before I could activate my back-up plan, she is in full crisis, meltdown, tantrum mode, lying on the floor ripping her clothes off. This is usually around the time Ozzy will start snapping out, and before I know it, all three of us are in tears. And guess who made it to their appointment on time? Not any of us.
To make up for the lost time we had last week, Michael and I decided to take Mickey on a day date to see Frozen 2. We wanted some quality time with just her, so the baby went to my in-law’s, and we went to the movies, in full Elsa costume, naturally. Half way through the movie she started to complain that her tummy hurt. I felt for her because mine kind of did too. It was probably just the popcorn and twizzlers we devoured through the movie.
Spoiler alert; it wasn’t the candy.
That was Sunday. It is now Friday. We are on day SIX of a stomach bug that has plagued our entire household. I had four separate appointments that had to be canceled this week. My husband had to reschedule a day of work and move them to this weekend, causing him to take on 15-16 hour days.
We have a holiday party we’re supposed to attend tomorrow evening. Think that’s going to happen? I can’t even type that with a straight face.
The moral of the story is; kids have god-like strength when it comes to throwing curveballs. So if you’re a planner, like us, set the bar low and learn to go with the flow. Because these All Powerful Beings, who rule your home, will always laugh in the face of your plans. You might as well learn to laugh back.
My daughter’s elf on the shelf, Pancakes, didn’t plan on getting this bug either.