I make no secret about some of my “quirks.” What I call “organized” others may describe as “crazy” or “controlling.” Most days I consider these positive attributes, the habits of a man with his shit together. Every once in a while, however, there comes a day when I look at my lists, my hourly schedules, and I wonder if maybe I take things a step further than necessary.
Today was one of those days.
Tomorrow my wife and I leave for vacation, a trip that any would-be burglars should note that we will have returned from by the time this post is published. (Nice try burglars.) It’s a trip that by necessity needed to be planned pretty meticulously. Four different hotels in three different cities over a five night period. A flight into one airport and a departure from another for the return home. An entire folder full of printed confirmations.
It wasn’t these plans that gave me pause, rather the ones that I had left behind. Detailed descriptions of my daughter’s morning, after school and before bed routines. Lunches and snacks packed and labeled, dinners prepared. School and soccer practice outfits chosen and laid out according to weather predictions.
One might think that this was the first time I had left her in anybody else’s care but it’s not. There also might be the assumption that I don’t trust grammy to handle what is needed, also not true.
The truth is that my daughter is a bit like me. She likes things to go a certain way and can be a pain in the ass when they don’t. Bedtime can be a challenging time, mornings double so, and she comes home from school with seven hours of contained energy waiting to be released. Tactics proven successful deserve to be shared.
Thankfully my mother doesn’t take any of this personally. I’m not sure if she’ll have his clothes laid out, but I’d be willing to bet that my father already has his next few meals prepared and a list of instructions of his own. Not because he’s incapable, just because we’re “organized.”