My Neurotic Side Comes Out

I'm a routine kind of girl.  I love to know what is going on and when it's going to happen.  And when I find something that works, I like to repeat it over and over and over.  Routines help me know what's normal and what's not.  Or, what's been taken care of, and what still needs my attention.

Mary Tutu might carry the "love of routine" gene.  In the midst of packing up our old house, she found a digital wrist watch and claimed it as hers.  She figured out how to set an alarm and at 3:00 every afternoon it goes off.

What happens at 3:00?  Snack time.

It's always been my go-to answer in the summer time.  "Mom, can I have a snack?"  "Not til 3:00."

Otherwise, they would eat me out of house and home all day, every day.

I think Mary Tutu is afraid that in the midst of all the moving shenanigans we might forget a snack.  Or, maybe it's the one routine she can hold on to, the hill she's chosen to die on.  She knows...we all know...at 3:00 every afternoon, someone better stop and figure out what's for snack.

Because 3:00 is when we eat a snack.
 
The actual logistics of moving...haven't been my favorite.  Because, do you know how many routines we have in CO? Zero.  Well, one, if you count snack time.

Moving upsets every established routine imaginable.

new job = new work schedule
new work schedule = new pay schedule
new pay schedule = new household budget
new household budget = new due dates for bills

new household budget = new grocery shopping schedule
new work schedule = new meal times
new meal times = new meal prep times

Those are just the big ones this summer.  Throw in some new doctors, new insurance, new banks, new places for all our stuff, and driving an hour to go to a new church...

The new has worn off of all the new.

Someone once told me that you can always tell when a major life change is happening in a woman's life because she gets a new hair style.  And, it's kind of true.

Growing it out? Must be planning a wedding.
Cutting it short?  Must be having a baby.
Growing the bangs out?  The kids must be starting school.
New color?  The kids must be moving out.

That totally explains why, the last two days, I've curled my hair.  Instead of wearing it in it's natural state "straight as a board", I've spent many minutes curling it so it can be "the size of Texas".

I can't decide if I like it and should try to fit the curling of the hair into my morning routine, or if I look like Loretta Lynn and should sing a reprise of Coal Miner's Daughter.

I'm telling myself that it's just because it's summer.  Soon enough, school will start and we will settle in to a routine.  I'm trying to remind myself how ready I was for school to be out so we wouldn't be a slave to the school routine.  I'm cutting myself some slack and taking a deep breath and trying to roll with all the new.

Until then, I'm hoping that the deep breathing and the curling iron will keep me from doing something drastic like cutting bangs.  Because that never turns out well for me.