Life in Triage

In the book, I Don't Know How She Does It, the author compares motherhood to work in the triage unit of an emergency room.  Allison Pearson (the author) defines triage as "the degree of urgency to decide the order of treatment."

Some days I find that my life is like that.  When you need 48 hours in the day and recognize that there are only 24 and you must sleep for some of them, you have to prioritize.  You see what fire is burning brightest so you can put it out.  Other fires might be smoldering right under your feet, but you can't fight all your battles at once, so you pick the most urgent.

Yesterday was a triage day.  I had several urgent tasks to get done at work.  I had several urgent tasks to get done at home.  I had two kids to take care of and I had to meet Adam at Home Depot at 6:30 to pick out tile and grout for the kitchen and bathroom.

Our home looks like a donations warehouse right now.  This past weekend Adam scraped up the linoleum in our living room, so we are completely walking on the concrete slab, except in the bedrooms.  Our den and living room are a collection of boxes and the couch is living on a furniture dolly right now.  Yesterday Claire and I started packing up the kitchen only to find out the cabinets are three weeks away from arriving.  Today we will repack the cabinets.

This morning the dog woke me up at 4:00 and I just decided to stay up.  It's teacher appreciation week and after nearly two hours at Home Depot last night, I couldn't bear to bake anything.  The oven is currently preheating because the next urgent action on my list is baking chocolate chip cookies for all of our teachers.

The problem with living life as a triage unit is that if you're always rushing to the next emergency you don't have time to breathe.  Also, normal tasks start stacking up just because they aren't urgent.  Everything starts looking disproportionate.

I can survive this way for a maximum of three days without having a nervous breakdown.  After that, my world starts tipping off its axis and I am prone to cry at an untied shoe or other minor event.  So this morning, I am working the triage.  Bake cookies.  Clean kitchen.  Wake and feed children.  Get self ready.  Take kids to school.  Feed dogs.  Register Paul for kindergarten.  Take Claire lunch.  Pick Paul up from preschool.  Collapse.  Pick Claire up from school.  Supervise homework.  Supervise baths.  Make dinner.  Clean dinner.  Read stories.  Tuck kids in.  Collapse.

I am fortunate, though, that the older I get, the better I can anticipate triage, so I can plan ahead.  Today is the day I need to register Paul for kindergarten.  Today is the day I will get on my hands and knees and beg the principal/office staff/whomever to put Paul with Claire's old teacher.  (I'm making double recipe of the chocolate chip cookies to make sure I have enough baked goods to accompany my begging.)  Knowing ahead of time that it would be a crazy day and week, I took of work today.  That way I can get the triage taken care of, then have time to take a breath before I dive into the next emergency.

I am so grateful for the ability to miss a day of work.  I am so grateful I have a husband who can talk to Home Depot daily to organize our new floors and cabinets while I hold down the fort at home.  I am so grateful for two healthy, happy children.  I am so grateful for every little event that crowds my calendar today because it means that I am useful and needed.  I am so grateful that I have two unscheduled hours in my day today.  I am so grateful for life, even in the triage unit.