Balancing Act

I have one child and one husband, which means there's two of us and one of him. Those sound like good odds, right? So, why is it that our lives are run by this one child's activities?

And neither of us is one of those crazy parents. You know the ones I'm talking about: you're at the grade school carnival, and Mrs. Crazy will tell you that little Bridget still has to squeeze in a ballet lesson, oboe practice, and basket weaving class before sitting down to her perfectly balanced, organic dinner.

Nope, not in our family. There are two of us struggling to transport our little darling to (insert seasonal sport here) before sitting down to a dinner of pancakes. And he doesn't participate in very many activities-at least not in comparison to other kids we know. And yet, my husband and I are unable to function well even at this caliber.

The one consistent activity my son has had is piano lessons-and my parents transport him to those because they're after school. My son has taken piano lessons since he was in pre-school, largely because his teacher is my mom's best friend and, quite frankly, the best music teacher there ever was. It seemed like a crime not to enroll him. He does not take piano lessons because he's good at it or has even a remote interest in it. Which may be why he threatened civil disobedience if he had to take lessons another year. Okay, so that's one activity crossed off.

And he plays one sport every season: soccer in the spring, baseball in the summer, soccer (again with the soccer!) in the fall, and basketball in the winter. That's it. That is the schedule that befuddles two intelligent adults.

Now that summer is here, my husband and I were trying to come up with a semi-regular schedule of when he could play golf. Let me just say that I fully support this hobby, as it keeps him sane. And I've found that a sane husband is a good husband. But try as we might, we couldn't come up with a single time-let along a regular schedule-that didn't interfere with our 10-year-old's schedule.

And as for me, I'd like to find some time to scrapbook with my girlfriends. My husband suggested I get together with them for a couple of hours on a weeknight; all of you who scrapbook will know why I laughed at this proposition. It takes at least a four-hour stretch to get any quantity of scrapbooking done, which means a Saturday or Sunday is my only option.

But not this Saturday. Let's see, I was supposed to help my brother-in-law move, but my husband will have to go alone because my son has a soccer game at 11 a.m. and baseball practice also at 11 a.m. I have no idea how that's going to work out, but it will involve stress and a speeding ticket, I'm sure.

I've heard people talk about the epidemic of overscheduled children, but I have yet to see this so-called epidemic. If you look around, kids are pretty happy these days. It's the parents who are overscheduled and need a break.

I have no idea how parents with more than one child do it. The irony is that it seems the more children you have, the calmer you appear. On my son's soccer team nearly every season is a cute little girl whose mother now has four children, and she's unflappable. She brings the kids, the family dog, and a gift for the coach to soccer games-and she looks like she's enjoying herself.

The rest of the parents on the sidelines are praying for one of two things: that the game lasts forever because it's their only break this week-or that it gets over in two seconds because the pancakes need to be flipped. TPW