Today on Sesame Street, Ernie is singing “change, change, change the plan…be flexible…its still respectable”. I feel like that fucker’s singing to me.
I love making plans. There’s something comforting about being able to map out exactly how an event should go. I like routine. I like structure. I wouldn’t call myself ridge but itineraries give me a mental erection. I plan for traffic and road work. I arrive 15 minutes early for appointments. I think about what I’m going to wear the day before. I plan for DAYS for things.
And, wouldn’t you know it, I’m the only person in my family like that.
My husband, a former military man, doesn’t give a good gorram about time lines. Things are done when they are done. Planning is against his nature. He just does things. Usually whenever he feels like it. And because he’s a silver tongued devil, some how it always seems to work for him. I don’t know if its charisma or his IDGAF nature that charms people but it happens. And not only that, but he loves to change plans mid way through. Our day could be planned for days in advance and then suddenly by lunch time, we are somewhere different doing gods know what. Life with him is always an adventure.
The boys are 6 and almost 2. Baby Girl is 5 weeks. So they’re a big bucket of crazy. The 6 year old is beginning to get accustomed to routine because of school. We’re trying to teach him the importance of time management and scheduling. We just have to find some middle ground between how I approach things and how Husband approaches things. The almost 2 year old, well, what can you do? He’s 2. I hope they end up some pleasant mix of Husband and I. I know how much anxiety my listmaking and planning give me. I’d like to spare them that.
Just from living with those three crazy kids and ever late Husband, it does seem that Ernie’s right. It’s okay to change the plan midway through. It’s good to be flexible. Life happens.
Even if it not a point on a list.