You Never Get a Second Chance.

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I'm a frazzled wreck these days, and never was it more apparent than last Friday when I met a group of moms - only one of which I'd ever met before - for a swimming playdate.  These moms are new to my son's school, and this was an opportunity for all of us (moms and kids) to get to know each other. 

Folks, I made a STELLAR first impression.

First of all, I was late.  And I HAAAATE being late.  It totally stresses me out.  I'm one of those people who is always ALWAYS at least 5 minutes early to everything.  Which is how I like it.  I never want YOU to wait on ME.  Ever.  It gives me a rash.

So there's that, I was late.  But then?  Then I realized as we were approaching the pool that I'd forgotten Paige's swim floaties.  Which meant that I was going to have to stand like a hawk and watch her without so much as blinking the entire time.  Problem is, sister THINKS she is an excellent swimmer.  And she can keep herself afloat for periods of time.  But inevitably she ends up stranded in the deep end flailing about because she's so exhausted.  So, instead of talking to those new moms, I knew I'd be over on the edge of the pool wringing my hands and grinding my teeth to dust. 

Floaties would have been much easier on everyone involved. 

And then? Oh y'all, I'm ashamed to even admit this: I FORGOT TOWELS. 

Yes I totally did.  I took my kids to a pool without towels.  Some other mother (who was forming her first impression of me) had to sacrifice one of her towels for the sake of my wet children.  I wanted to die.

And the final blow was when everyone decided to go as a group to a fast-food place for lunch.  And hey!  They'd all packed nice dry clothes for their kids.  GUESS WHAT MY KIDS WORE?

Yep.  Wet swimsuits.  (with tee-shirts over, but STILL).

Some days I think I might be pulling off this whole working, homeschooling, mothering thing and then life jumps up and slaps me with reality.  It seems everything is suffering.  I have no pace.  No rhythm.  I haven't figured out how to juggle everything. 

And it's killing me softly - a little bit every day.

I've never been That Mom - the put-together perfect one - but I've never been That Other Mom either.  The one who is such a disaster you wonder if she regularly bathes and feeds her children. 

But that' is totally who I was on Friday.  I was That Other Mom - the disaster one.  And all those women saw me at my very worst the very first time they'd met me. 

The only consolation is: it can only go up from here, right?