6 a.m. Wake up. Notice there are two kids in my bed. And a husband. 6:43 a.m. Leave for the office. Wave to the friendly walkers in the neighborhood. 7 a.m. Arrive at the office. Prepare for staff meeting. Answer e-mails — including one telling me I misidentified an aerial shot of Utah County (page 97). Turns out there is a difference between Springville High School and Maple Mountain High School. Hard to tell from a helicopter. 9 a.m. Staff meeting. We discuss our plans for Utah Valley Magazine and BusinessQ. We also pass around pics of the fiance of Ashley, a well-loved former employee. Facebook, sweet Facebook.
10:15 a.m. Leave the office to go home and grab my son for the Travis Hansen Basketball camp.10:35 a.m. Leave my neighborhood with a van full of basketball campers.10:50 a.m. Arrive at the Travis Hansen camp and look for my daughter, her friend and two cousins who are finishing the 9 a.m. session. Camp ends a bit late thanks to a great talk by Devin Durrant (note to self: write about him someday). Now we are cutting it close to be home in time for the next to-do.
11:10 a.m. Leave the camp in a hurry. Travis Hansen stops me and says, “Hey, you are famous! You do that awesome magazine!” I didn’t expect him (a somebody) to recognize me (practically a nobody). We chat. Now we’re even later, but it’s worth it to talk to Travis (note to self: good job writing about him and his wife a couple years ago).11:30 a.m. Get back home JUST in time for Hailey to get picked up for play practice at Hale Center Theater and just PAST time for me to jump on a conference call with Isagenix, a Phoenix-based company we’re featuring in the next issue of Prosper. 11:45 a.m. Put the conference call on mute so I can tell Carson not to worry. The dog will come back when he wants to.12:05 p.m. Head to Kohler’s for dry ice. Carson has a science experiment in mind, and it must be done today. Apparently, I promised.
On the first day of summer, I made a to-do list for each of my four children. I did it again the day after that. And the day after that. And so on. The first few days were exciting. The kids loved checking the box by “make bed” and “brush teeth.” I gradually added more difficult tasks like “clean the basement.” The excitement started to wear off. Which didn’t stop me from making their lists every day. This morning, I told all four of them they could make their own to-do lists. They could pick five chores and be captain of their own ship, master of their fate. Six-year-old Carson listed “Practice riding bike” and “Jump on the tramp.” Not exactly what I had in mind. If I had a “rewind” button, I would have changed my words to: “I’ll pick five chores and you pick five chores today. That’s 10 possible boxes to check off!!! Talk about summer lovin’!! You see, I’m a chronic list-maker. My condition is at its peak when I’m at home, where I change hats all day long (not literally — I don’t have the right face shape for hats). Today I made a list of 19 things I need to do including “write article about Nu Skin distributor” and “process 100 e-mails from my inb0x” and “clean my nightstand.” I also listed the estimated time to complete each task. It added up to 9 hours 45 minutes. Do-able. But I didn’t factor in my cool neighbor stopping by to return my reflective vest. (I bought it for the Ragnar Relay Wasatch Back, but then a stress fracture gave me the boot — literally.) We chatted. That’s 30 minutes I hadn’t accounted for. Maybe I should put it on my to-do list so I can cross it off. I also didn’t plan to sneak in a few pages of “The Help,” a book my friend loaned me yesterday. Reading is easier than writing. Another 30 minutes unaccounted for.