can i do it all, please?

Can I do it all, please? Sounds like crazy talk doesn't it? I am the biggest offender of this that I know. I am in a constant state of "get things done". Being a mother has made this condition worse. It's like a game "Let's play 'How many things can I do at the same time'! Aw come on, its fun!!" Which usually leads to the infamous "Forget it, I'll just do it myself". I might as well just start singing "Nobody knows the trouble I've seen" as I carry the ball and chain to the laundry room, right? Referencing an earlier blog, I would suppose that my need to stay busy weighs heavily on my "significance" scale. I wonder why that is?
As women, we have to keep up the appearance that we have it all together; work, family, friends, play dates etc. The more you can get done the more successful you are perceived. If you have doubts you may pick up any women's magazine for tips on how to multitask, save a dime, please your kids and your spouse, make a nutritious meal, all while maintaining your high school figure, keeping a neat organized house and smiling with your bright white teeth. It can be done! Bah ha ha ha.
OK maybe not ALL women feel this way, but I do. I am compelled to be a martyr. I think it's hereditary. I really want to do it all and if there is a way to do it, I am willing to learn. I went out to California several months ago and found out that I am a mere amateur. There seems to be this competition going on out there where the busiest person wins some glorious prize that nobody has ever seen. They actually seem to compete about who is more stressed out. It's not enough to just be busy, you have to be on the verge of mental collapse.
I laugh when my boss says that I am well organized. He thinks that because I save everything that I have it all together. I also have him fooled that I have a good memory. The truth is that I don't have it all together. I keep everything because my memory sucks and if I didn't write everything down and save it I'd be a lost. If I am good at anything it's my ability to FIND it after I save it.
A truly organized person knows what to save and what to throw away – and when. Someone that really has it together doesn't need to archive email from 5 yrs ago.
While I'm confessing, let me also say that I like to take my kid to McDonalds, preferably ones with the indoor playground. I like to be able to sit and watch him play and see how he reacts to other kids. I like to see him search for me once he gets to the tippy top level so I can clap for him. I like when he gets stuck and scared and I have to get my fat ass up in there to "rescue" him.
I am learning to let go, bit by bit. The truth is I have never really had it all together. I think I am just coming to grips with the reality of it all.
The following letter sums all of this up rather nicely. I received it in my email the other day and it made me smile. Feel free to copy and paste to pass it along.
*****Dear Santa,I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned and cuddled my children on demand, visited the doctor's office more than my doctor and sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to plant a shade tree on the school playground. I was hoping you could spread my list out over several Christmases, since I had to write this letter with my son's red crayon, on the back of a receipt in the laundry room between cycles, and who knows when I'll find any more free time in the next 18 years.Here are my Christmas wishes:I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache (in any color, except purple, which I already have) and arms that don't hurt or flap in the breeze, but are strong enough to pull my screaming child out of the candy aisle in the grocery store.I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month of my last pregnancy.If you're hauling big ticket items this year I'd like fingerprint resistant windows and a radio that only plays adult music, a television that doesn't broadcast any programs containing talking animals, and a refrigerator with a secret compartment behind the crisper where I can hide to talk on the phone.On the practical side, I could use a talking doll that says, "Yes, Mommy" to boost my parental confidence, along with two kids who don't fight and three pairs of jeans that will zip all the way up without the use of power tools.I could also use a recording of Tibetan monks chanting "Don't eat in the living room" and "Take your hands off your brother," because my voice seems to be just out of my children's hearing range and can only be heard by the dog.If it's too late to find any of these products, I'd settle for enough time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a Styrofoam container.If you don't mind, I could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday season. Would it be too much trouble to declare ketchup a vegetable? It will clear my conscience immensely. It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to help around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime family.Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is calling and my son saw my feet under the laundry room door. I think he wants his crayon back. Have a safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots by the door and come in and dry off so you don't catch cold.Help yourself to cookies on the table but don't eat too many or leave crumbs on the carpet.
Yours Always,
MOM...

P.S. One more thing...you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children young enough to believe in Santa.