It's that time again - time for Writer's Workshop. This time, the prompt I have chosen is "My Cross to Bear".

I have to admit there is one type of person that completely fascinates me. People who water their plants. People who rotate their tires. People who send in warranty cards. People who save receipts. You know, those mysterious folks who have a scheduled, routine, ordinary life.

I am fascinated with people who plan their meals every week or every month. I could no more do that than fly to the moon. If there is one major ingredient that is missing in my life, it is consistency.

My brother-in-law is like that. He's semi-retired now, but when he owned his own business, he would get up at exactly the same time every morning, hit the shower at the same time, down exactly two cups of coffee, and be in his car on his way to work at precisely the same time every day. He hangs his shirts coordinated by color and sleeve length on hangers that are placed exactly 1/2" apart to keep them from wrinkling. Sometimes I want to be married to a man like that, but on the other hand, I think I'd have to kill him. Opposites might attract, but you still have to share a bathroom.

When I see people like that, I want to ask them what color is the sky in their world? They are just that foreign to me. I do not get up at the same time, go to bed at the same time, eat any meal at a particular time, watch a particular show at the same time (They invented Tivo for people like me and now I'm addicted to it!). In short, I am a person of complete random unpredictability.

I do manage to keep the pets and the people in my house fed, but only because they will make noises at me if I don't. I gave up on plants about 20 years ago. If it doesn't meow or bark, it's not likely to survive around here. I barely remember to dust the silk ones! How I've managed to keep a job in the Corporate world all these years is one of the mysteries of the ages, although I am much better at work than I am at home. I think it's because at work you're kind of hemmed in by day planners and meeting schedules and my beloved Outlook calendar. There's not as much opportunity for randomness, especially in the Accounting world where I live.

However, remembering the things that do need to be done on a regular basis requires a super-human feat of engineering, along with multiple reminders. For instance, the only way the cat box gets cleaned is because I have pop-up reminders on my Google calendar, a post-it note on the calendar, and the names and dates of whose turn it is written on the white board on the front of the fridge! But the furnace filter hasn't been changed since last October (October 2008, that is). Sadly, my husband and sons all have the same problem.

It's kind of a dilemma - on the one hand, I like being something of a free spirit. I don't think I'd like the feeling of being boxed in by routine. To have to eat chicken for dinner because it's on the menu rather than because I feel like eating chicken that night. But on the other hand, I do have to live in the real world and sometimes it ain't pretty.

I was sitting at my son's High School graduation. His "free spirit attitude" that he inherited from me almost caused him to not be able to graduate. He was so far behind in his English class that the office literally held his cap & gown "hostage" until the very morning of graduation because he had to get one last assignment turned in. That I essentially wrote for him at 1:00 that morning because I just could.not take.it.any.more!

We have some friends who are the kind of people I'm talking about - you know, regular folks. And a terrible thought came to me. What if my adorable, but scatterbrained son had been raised by people like them instead of people like me? He not only would have graduated just fine, but he probably would have made Honor Roll and had some fabulous scholarship to some fabulous college, instead of barely squeaking through High School and heading straight for Tech School because he couldn't even manage Community College. Boy, was that a hard pill to swallow. I not only have this problem myself, I'm a carrier!

Then I had an even uglier thought. Like it or not, I'm going to be doing this in another 10 years with our last boy and I have a choice. Do I want to be sweating it out all through High School with him, or do I want to take these 10 years and do a better job with taming my free-spiritedness to be better prepared to help him with his?

So I buckled down. At least somewhat. We've got a regular homework time and place set. I even have a reminder on my cell phone for it! And I've got a few more reminders on my Google calendar for spelling tests and reading notes. We set a rule that books and papers cannot be more than 2 feet from his bookbag, which has a special hook to hang on. Baby steps, but at least they're in the right direction! And ten years from now (well, now it's six years), I'll know if I've done the right thing.




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