Today I went to the dentist. It has been a long time between visits. So long in fact that I couldn’t even admit to myself how long it had been for fear of unleashing an unhealthy amount of self-recrimination that would only add to the procrastination and fear that’s prevented me from going all these years.
So bullet bitten here I am, teeth shiny and clean and save for a light lecture on the importance of dental hygiene, there was nothing to fear afterall. No fillings. No wisdom teeth needing immediate removal. No extra large bill. Just a ‘look after your teeth and come back in six months’. They even gave me a goody bag.
It has me thinking about how procrastination only makes things alot harder. Things that are routine and necessary become scary monsters that wake you in the middle of the night. One big ‘to do list’ that just keeps on growing.
I’ve always been big on procrastination. It’s like I need a big ol’ deadline to push me into action and get things done. And right now, I am on deadline. Four more weeks until I’m back at work two days a week.
Those two days at the moment, while J is at daycare, are my ‘to do’ days. Making all the appointments I have been putting off. This week, Dentist. Next week, two years’ worth of tax and a car service.
I am proud I’m finally getting around to it, even though my days of child free days off are almost over.
But I am not enjoying these child free days as much as I thought, or as much as people told me I would. I know some people put their children in day care to give themselves a break, but I am finding the days that J is in day care are much more stressful than when I’m at home with him – and it seems to be getting worse, not better.
This morning when I left him, he cried as soon as he left my arms. I took him back and cuddled him goodbye and when I gave him back to his carer he cried and cried. But I couldn’t hover, couldn’t procrastinate. He needs to get used to it. There is no other option. It’s been almost two months now and the weeks until I’m back at work are quickly dwindling. But it gets harder and harder.
I get back to the car, fighting back tears, to find some moron has almost double parked me. I could attempt to manoeuvre out, but it’s too tight and I’m feeling too emotional.
Just as I was tossing up such a manoeuvre a big black 4WD pulls up behind the other car. Now I am trully stuck.
A big burly bloke with what I deem to be a ‘man perm’ gets his toddler out of the car and goes inside. I am sure that he saw me behind the wheel. No matter to him. He is dressed for business. Gel through his curly locks, red-rimmed glasses afixed to his face.
No time to procrastinate for him, nor think of anyone else it seems. I now start to cry. I think of my boy crying inside and it’s too much. I wait, and wait. Thoughts turn to slashing the guys tyres, wishing I had a large ramming bar on the back of my car to just back out and push his big chunk of a car back onto the street. Where he should have parked it in the first place.
After about 15 minutes he returns, backs out of the driveway and is gone. But my anger remains. Maybe I’m too much of a pushover? But I don’t want to be like Mr Man Perm either.
Dentist trip complete, I sit at home knowing I have to make one of my many calls to check on the boy. Is he sleeping? Has he drunk his bottle today, eaten any food? The ensuing conversation lets me know whether I need to pick him up early or will he be okay to last until 4pm. I think of procrastinating, but I know I have no option. He is struggling, I can’t pretend he’s not. And there is a deadline looming. In four weeks time I won’t be able to pick him up early or drop him in later.
Procrastination is not an option. But at this stage, I am not sure what it is I am supposed to be doing either. Call made, no sleep today, no bottle. I have to go and get him. Maybe I am too soft? I don’t know. I just know I have to get him. Until next week. When we try again.