Every day in the news you hear about terrible crimes that have been committed.  I often wonder how people get to that place in their lives where unspeakable acts don’t even phase them.  I just can’t understand unethical and illegal behavior, it’s not in my nature.  Ok, I’ll admit I do fantasize about hurling pennies at drivers that cut me off and I would really like to try tasering someone, but other than that I extremely ethical.  Don’t get me wrong, I am by no means saying I’m an angel.  I admit that I am an honorary card carrying member of the royal bitch society but I am as honest as the day is long.    Sometimes I imagine what life would be like if I had chosen a different path in my youth.  It’s sort of like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz deciding which yellow brick road to follow.

I remember starting down a crooked path in Junior High with a friend who shall remain nameless, mostly because I don’t remember who it was.  It was an eerily quiet cloudy day, the kind of day you get a chill deep down into your bones that you just can’t shake.  Actually, I have no idea what the weather was like that day but that really did set the scene didn’t it?  We were in the 5 & 10 and my friend was going to steal some candy and encouraged me to do the same.  I took a piece of Bazooka gum, stuck it up into the sleeve of my navy blue Baracuta jacket and went to purchase another piece.  When I was about to pay, the gum slid down out of the sleeve of my very stylish jacket and onto the counter.  Thankfully playing dumb comes easy to me and I purchased that piece as well.   That brush with the dark side scared me straight.

What if I hadn’t been caught, would I have continued down that crooked path of crime.  One day Bazooka gum, the next day stealing the elderly’s wheel chairs.  Just like that, you snap your fingers and you are living the thug life.  I just shuddered at that thought because I am pretty sure Vineyard Vines clothing would not be acceptable attire while living the thug life.  How sad for them.  You would think that in itself would scare them straight never mind the threat of going to jail.

I will say that if I ever am to commit a crime, it is going to be good.  For example, how cool would it be to hijack a Hostess truck?  Right?  Think about it, being chased down the highway like OJ with helicopters hovering above capturing all of it on film.  Yelling “you won’t take me alive with an empty stomach copper” while you hurl Suzy Q’s at them, because who really wants those anyway.  Or maybe throw the snowflake marshmallow puffy things because we all know no one in their right mind eats those.  Of course at the end of it all I would pay for any damage and any product used because I’m as honest as the day is long.

This morning, as I sat at an 8:00 basketball game without a drop of coffee in my system because we were running late, I started to think about how overscheduled we all are.  We constantly hear about “the overscheduled child” but what about the overscheduled mom (or dad or caregiver to be fair)?  We are the ones that had to sign our child up for basketball, set the alarm, get breakfast ready, make sure the uniform is clean (not this time, sorry buddy), drive 30 minutes to the game all while praying to the rain Gods that the afternoon’s soccer game will be cancelled.

People always say that children need down time, time to decompress and to stimulate their brains.  Multiple studies have been done on this topic.  What about my brain?  What about my time to decompress?  The few brains cells I have left that actually function could really use some re-compressing (is that a word)?  Who knows, my brain is too fried to even know what is or isn’t a word.  I’m sure the red wine I drink may also be a contributing factor to my loss of brain cells but that’s not the point of this blog.

Where are the studies on overscheduled parents? For our children to be overscheduled it takes work from us as parents.  We can’t forget the sign up deadlines, or the shin guards, or the poster board that is due tomorrow, the carpools, the teacher gifts, school picture day, etc.  My blood pressure went up just typing all the things we do.  This year I actually forgot school picture day until my son called me from school in non-matching gym clothes with hair sticking straight up to tell me I forgot.  I managed to iron a change of clothes, get them to the school with a comb in 14 seconds flat.

What happened to the days when we were kids, oh so long ago, when there were no schedules, no running around, and no stress.  Our parents never seemed stressed, did they?  The cigarettes they smoked might have helped with the stress, but still, they seemed more relaxed.  Our parents didn’t drive us everywhere, my mother didn’t even have her license and I managed to get where I needed.  Where I needed, that was the big difference, we no longer only do what we need.  I think one day recently I actually put 4,000 miles on my car and never even left town.

We were sent outside to play kick the can.  Or in my case as an only child, to go outside and fill my pockets with rocks until my pants fell down.  That wasn’t the actual goal or instruction from my parents, it just happened.  Or to play my all-time favorite game of sitting in the bushes in front of my house and stealing the balls that came over the fence from the school yard across the street.  Now that I think about it, it’s kind of amazing that I was able to have two semi-normal children.

It’s not always our fault however.  Especially not if you have a child that tends to procrastinate.  In that case, after you finish running around and cooking dinner, and you think you might be able to decompress, with a glass of wine of course, your child asks “do you know how to tea stain paper”?  Um no, and what?  When did you find out about this assignment, oh right, 3 weeks ago and it’s due tomorrow.  I am happy to announce I can now proudly add that skill to my resume.  Go me!

Interesting day, I started a blog.  Woohoo.  I’m sure this is an exciting day for everyone that is lucky enough to read this.  Why would I start a blog?  I have lots to say, of course.  Lots of very random things, I might add.  So random that I might very well regret this.

What started today’s conversation about blogging was a random FB post about an estate sale I went to this morning.  I believe the blog provoking comment was in regards to the lack of class some people have with respect to other people’s property.  Like climbing through bushes to get a sneak peek into the sale.  Please.  How about you use that extra few minutes and shower, maybe even wash your clothes.  That’s mean, I know, but it’s my blog right?  They do smell, it’s really quite gross.

It is entertaining to watch how others react.  We all have numbers, we can’t get in until they open the door and call our number, and yet 500 people are crammed onto the porch just in case.  Then they prop the storm door open, just to eliminate any time wasted with opening a door.  The magic time comes and did they really get an advantage?  No, I strolled in right behind them, no shrubbery in my hair, no pulled muscles, no stress, and my integrity intact.

Then the game begins.  Which direction to go, up or down, left or right, these decisions can affect everything.  I didn’t know what was in this sale so I just walked around without a plan.  I giggle a little when I see people really rushing through the house and I like to block them, just to watch them sweat.  You know, kind of like when someone is trying to cut you off while you are driving and you slow down and block the way.  Yeah, that’s what I kept doing on the staircases.  Slow and steady.   Ha ha.