My Outlook calendar is like a thousand piece puzzle carefully kept complete at all costs. I have, however, created my own challenge level for my puzzle of responsibilities by convincing myself of the mirage of an occasional opening (that doesn’t really exist) just to fill it once again with that 1,001st piece that really has nowhere to go. I really wish this was an effort at hyperbole. It is not. This is a literal piece. I can remember my starter puzzle, the one with little knobs to help you handle the pieces in this new game of mommyhood. No doubt, that life with my first little one was a balancing act, that required some adjustment. But when my second piece arrived, and I was faced with a puzzle not so easily solved, my life became far more of a juggling act. However, none of these starter sets quite prepared me for Level 3. Now, I have entered the world of puzzling competition that few would even find worthy of trying. There is no longer an attempt at balancing, or juggling, or evening acting like everything is being handled at all. No, now it is a game of decisive failure, as my world is now a constant, conscious (or sometimes unconscious given my lack of sleep with 3), choice of what I will let crash and burn to the ground today. There is no more “barely keeping it together.” There is only, “what will humble the heck out of me today.” Unfortunately, I often drift back into the now delightful dream of days that ended with the word “done,” and am known for my characteristic need to squeeze in “just one more thing”, knowing that there is no possible way to fit a 1,001 pieces into my overcrowded puzzle, even if you cut off a few corners. Thus it is not at all surprising that I was running a few minutes late for my morning meeting this manic Monday. And while I wish I had created a Flip-O-Gram of the mania that is morning in Mommyland as evidence of an excuse for my consistent disappointment, I suspected my childless companion would never truly understand the pressures of this puzzlemaker. Thus, when I called to ask forgiveness for my selfish (an antonym for mommy) delay, I should not have been surprised by her puzzled response. “I wish I could wait, but I am SO busy. You don’t even understand! Let’s do lunch later?” Really? REALLY? I held back my screams (Do you have ANY idea the magic required in getting out the door, fully dressed, without a single little leach attached to a limb, EVER?), and my laughter (“Oh, I remember being “busy” before I had my kids. Honey, YOU don’t even understand! If you peed alone this morning, I’ve already won). But in that crossroads between gratefulness and self-sorrow,  I took a deep breath and cranked up my music (which for once was not in any way affiliated with Disney or Veggie Tales), and thought about how grateful I am for a life so full that it bursts at the seams. God has screamed at me again and again to stop trying to finish His puzzle. Maybe I should start listening. So the next time I find a missing piece in my schedule I think I might have to fill it up with a pajama play-date with my pint-size priorities instead. A whole different type of traffic jams, gnarly noise pollution, occasional air pollution, and a ton of exhaust, but I know these little puzzle pieces would never, ever cancel on me because they are my missing pieces.

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