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Surviving Summer as a Work-From-Homer, Part 2: LOL Boogaloo

Remember that post from two weeks ago? The one where I listed five things to help you survive summer as a work-from-home parent? Well, you can strikethrough all of what I wrote because I was completely and totally wrong.

A lot of the changes in my POV stem from what has changed since I wrote my "Survival Guide" post. Hal was laid off, which has sent everything into a tailspin clusterfuck, and Archer and Fable have spent this last week at my parents' house so that they could attend this new thing we made up called "Gooey + Papa Camp" that is free-of-charge, round-the-clock and full of 24/7 adventures. In the meantime, Hal and I have been trying to make light of Hal's current joblessness by taking in spontaneous matinees, breathing into paper bags and trying to figure out if now would be a good time to sell our house, buy an old school bus and become a traveling circus. (No animals will be harmed. Fable would paint the exterior rainbow. It would be awesome.)

And so. Without further ado, here is an update on the "Summer Survival Guide" that I wrote two weeks ago, which was complete and utter bullshit. LOL.

I cannot even plan for the day without throwing the book out the window and starting over.

1. Mondays are for Planning our Week I don't even know anymore.

The last two Mondays have NOT been spent planning our week but rather trying to figure out who is going where and whether it's appropriate to take a kid to a meeting with me. (I took Fable with me last week, which was totally fine. She brought a book and read, and we had our meeting and everything was lovely and awesome.)

I realized that planning for the week's events on a Monday was only possible one time. Now? I cannot even plan for the day without throwing the book out the window and starting over. My post schedule is all over the place. I am unable to commit to much because of vague travel plans and even vaguer work plans, and I have no idea what's even going on right now. Is this thing even still on? Bueller?

2. I Can Work Nights CANNOT WORK NIGHTS. And I have to in order not to fall behind completely. I'm sorry but this is complete and total bullshit. I would rather be behind than insane. Which is how I feel right now, if you couldn't tell.

For an entire week, I stayed up and worked until 2/2:30 in the morning, and I was so smug and proud of myself for being the best late-night-working multitasker ever until I realized I wasn't sleeping. Like, at all. Apparently working super late at night turns me into an insomniac. My brain refuses to shut off when it's been left on too long, and for three straight nights I got two total hours of sleep. That is not going to work for me, I'm afraid. And so? This week it was back to unplugging at 9:30.

3. I must embrace my inability to be at 100%. Or 90%. Or 65%.

This one still stands. Although I am straddling the line between hustling 3 times more than usual while trying to work 3 times less with 3 times less time. Day by day, sisters. Day by day.

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4. Carving out time every day to work on special project(s). Do what you can when you can. Or put it off. That's cool, too.

Fable and I haven't touched our "daily zine" in a week. Not that we're quitting, because, NO, WE ARE NOT QUITTING. But the whole idea was to carve out time every day to work on a special project and for the moment, that is not happening. (We plan on reconvening next week. I don't know, though. I'm feeling pretty up in the air at the moment. Commitment feels futile.)

5. Go-Go-Gadget-Kid Exchange. Playdates are cool sometimes.

This is one of those "thought that counts" kind of ideas. Save for the first week of summer, everyone we know has had their kids in camp. (Archer actually did a few days of camp last week because his best friend was doing a few days of camp last week, so we signed him up for a few days of camp last week.) The kid exchange, although a noble idea, only works with parents you know and trust, and kids you know and trust.

And here's the thing — sometimes you don't want 7,879,878 kids in your house. And sometimes your kids don't want to be in a house full of 79,898,798 other kids. (I always think I can handle 787,198,278,239 kids, and then I end up in the bathroom, rocking back and forth in a corner.)

And so. My advice has now become this:

1. Do your best without damaging your mind/body/spirit.

2. Do not commit to anything.

3. Ask for help.

4. Let me know if you want to hop on our school-bus-turned-caravan and become part of our traveling circus.

5. (No, seriously.)

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