Welcome to wait list country. That sounds like some bad pick-up truck ad. But it’s true; Seattle is known for mountains, water, coffee, grunge, rain, evergreens, and the Space Needle. And then as it turns out, wait lists. I know what it feels like being stuck on a list. Hip deep stuck. Somewhere between the Andersons and the Steins just above the Grahams on page 6. Buried with no chance for arrival or survival.
The wait list: are you on one of these lists? Is your equivalent w-e-n-d-y-s-u-e-s-w-a-n-s-o-n spelled out and nestled nicely on some school, pool, or horseback-riding list? I think about these lists a lot more now that I have two kids. I generally let all people involved (the kids, the husband, the babysitter/nanny, the MIL, my own mother) down due to my inability to follow through and get on the list, let alone get off the list. Any list. I know you turbo moms and dads out there are really good at this. For me, it’s usually well after the list is formed, a true tardy, and only with 3 people telling me about an activity, that I get on the list. Precisely why I’m at the bottom, I suppose. Read full post »