How much I can handle (plus a new dog)

When you have young kids life just keeps getting busier and busier, especially after entering real (elementary) school for the first time. I've always known this was the case, how could it not be?, that as you increase the number of family members participating in activities there's more to do. When I wrote a post last year ('First real busy summer') I was, in a way, a sweet summer child, even if I had an inkling how the future would look. A little over a year later, things have, naturally, ramped up again.

Much of this is volunteering related. As I wrote a couple months ago, I accidentally became important at church. I'm there every Wednesday night and try to help out with other events too, though my Thursday night men's class has wrapped. For all that I'm glad, and think it's been good for me and, hopefully, good for the kids that I can be there. What's changed in the interim is moar sports. A group of our eldest's classmates wanted to play basketball for the first time this winter, this was organized by another one of the dads. Well, I signed up to help under the assumption this dad would be leading the team. Oops, I was wrong and the home coach is me! In retrospect I'm also glad for this, and am not sure I would've wanted it any other way, but this coaching business is a significant commitment. We have two hour-long practices a week, always on weeknights, and a game most Saturday mornings. The season started before the end of October and goes into February, with breaks for the holidays of course. We are, as well, playing up a grade in order to play actual games which has resulted in some lopsided affairs on the scoreboard. Alas, it's all a learning opportunity. It's certainly good I'm three years into coaching baseball and it's not my first rodeo.

And to think, a year ago I was looking forward to this time of year as our activities dried up.

Put it all together and we, many or most weeks, truly have something every night. With late work, with church, with basketball, with our small group rotation on Mondays, or other odd school/social gatherings which come and go. Either I'm gone and my wife handles bedtime for at least two of the kids, or she's gone and I do for all three. We used to spend most nights on the couch together, time we could recharge by simply being in each other's presence. That's always been where each of us wants to be (near, or with, each other, not specifically on the couch) and we get a lot less of that these days. The below trending tweet got to me, for the bit about 'ships passing in the night.' I'm thankful for the time we do get together.

I've always strove to not get overly involved, for a tendency to get overwhelmed. Preferably, in the past, we'd have open nights on the calendar. We'd be home bodies. I could watch a movie or play video games after putting the kids to bed, do things that would help me reset. I've always needed that before, or so I thought. If or when I get overwhelmed I might shut down and be entirely unproductive. Or, perhaps equally likely, I get desperate, near manic. Yes, I do believe that's the right word. Tunnel vision, OCD to the extreme, feels like a bad headache, but I do get plenty done. There have been times of late, with all the busy nights, where I feel like I'm riding a fine line, that I'm about to lose control. Yet, surprisingly, overall I'm handling it all a lot better than I would've expected. I'm improving at preparing for my myriad obligations. Planning basketball practices for 2nd/3rd graders takes some forethought. As does holding the attention of the same age kids, usually all high energy boys again, for a bible discussion. Then there's all my normal household/parenting duties which never stop. A conclusion I've reached is that God is showing me I can handle more than I believed I could. Part of it may be I don't have time to think about it all, I just keep plunging forward.

I was feeling confident for like a week or two, and then a huge change hit like a truck, as life often does. In short my wife decided to adopt a second dog. She's a Wheaton Terrier and we named her Lucy. Taking care of a puppy wasn't something I was expecting to do. I told my wife I was not excited. That I'm kind of over dogs at the moment (largely because our elderly lab has bowel issues, a story for another day). We weren't sure we were even going to get her but, when we did, it was sudden. She visited with her foster Thursday afternoon. We took possession of her Saturday. I basically made myself scarce that day and was pretty blasé the next 24 hours. The only comparable I've had in life was when I learned we were moving to Maryland, shell-shocked, not sure how to feel. To my wife's credit she's truly taken the lead on not only the new dog, but the old one as well, figuring the logistics of where they'll both be in the house, her food, taking them out morning and evening. That's helped considerably. I'm telling myself this is all for the best, but it's been a struggle. Especially when she won't come inside when I call, or, worse, breaks containment. She's an escape artist. Twice one morning she got out, once because the doors were open, the other because, apparently, she fits through our neighbor's fence. We're not used to little dogs or smart dogs, and she's both.

There's now even more on my plate. The dog needs to be let out frequently and watched closely. I used to think we'd just need to get past (whatever was going on) and then life will calm down, but it won't, really, ever, will it? However, I'm seeing I can take it and will continue to learn to handle everything thrown at me.

Or I'll lose my mind. Either way.

(P.S. I wrote most of this a couple days ago and since then am already pretty used to the new dog. She is trouble though.)