Those of you who repeatedly try to impose your obsessiveness to schedule disorder on us...STOP. We take flying by the seat of our pants very seriously at our house. That nagging need to plan our lives years in advance...nope doesn't exist here. Hell, we don't even know what we're having for dinner and it's like 5:00...we don't even know if we're having dinner. Sadly, after glancing at our schedule it's not looking good.
My message to obsessively-planned stressed-out (probably walking around with gastrointestinal complications) people is to chill the freak out. My daughter has a few friends whose parents force them to plan every single thing they do together as if they'll immediately be run down by a rogue car if any detail is missing. Her friends are always calling her cell saying, "My parents need to know when you're going to be home. They need to know when we're leaving. They need to know when we'll be back. They need to know you're blood type. Do you lean more liberal or conservative?" She's 17. And going to grab a damn ice cream cone with your kid. Stop complicating my life. And guess what?...She doesn't know when she'll be home because she's currently a passenger in my jacked up mini-van. And guess who's not making a special trip to get her there at a certain time? And guess who's now driving slower on purpose? In my clenched-teeth scary-person whisper...Don't try to organize my chaos. It pisses me off.
All of these questions inevitably send our family into a raging state of frenzied anxiety. Which leads to the complete absence of happiness and it's replaced with crazed yelling and confusion and ultimately my irritable bowel syndrome kicks in...What time should I tell them!? How the hell would I know!? Well, how long does it usually take? It depends on where we need to go! Shit! Where else do we need to go?!? I don't know what to tell them! Do you know what to tell them, honey!? Tell them we don't know!!! Mom, pleeease give me a time, they're going to freak! Oh shit...stop the car! Stop the car!! I've gotta get to a restroom...
Just stop it already. You're messing us up with your need to organize.
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