Just when you think life will somehow handle the husband commuting 2 hours a day (and working 10) instead of working from home.
Just when you have once again talked yourself into thinking that the local public school is good enough for now.
Just when you have come to terms that, although it is the right time to sell, it is the wrong time to buy so staying put and saving up is the best way to go.
Just when everybody has just re-calibrated to the new high-wire schedule balancing act.
Then, it seems, would be the ideal time to have everything that you thought you had sorted out for childcare for the next 2.5 years get tossed out the window with less than one month's notice.
It is moments like these that make me want to quit my job, sell my house, and run screaming for the hills (or just a place where the cost of living is reasonable, where my kids would be guaranteed a spot in a decent school, and where life just didn't move at 100 miles per hour).
In the meantime, I guess I will just be spending every free moment vetting various child care options, and crossing my fingers, and thinking positive thoughts about other people moving away (for bigger and brighter opportunities) so that I can get that coveted preschool spot.
And most of all, I will be holding my son tight, knowing that this transition will be extremely hard for him and that he will have to be very brave.
We ask a lot of ourselves everyday as we juggle the complex and competing demands of family, work, and life. This latest kerfuffle is forcing me to appreciate the magnitude of what we ask of our children.
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