The Perfect Schedule

As you may have figured, the title of this post does not refer to any kind of real-life situation. It is, I am sorry to say, purely aspirational. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be writing about it, three weeks – or is it four? - after my last post.  

There was a time, a couple of years ago, when I committed to publishing a post every Thursday. I think I stuck to it for a while. I remember being quite consistent last year. Not including summers, family disruptions or any kind of school break, of course. That goes without saying.

This Fall, however, has proved to be quite erratic. Was it just a long series of family disruption? It sure seems like it.

There were bad disruptions, including illness and death, on my husband’s side of the family.

But there were also good ones.

A yoga retreat a few weeks ago – my studio owner is an angel on earth. Then 24 hours away for our 20^th anniversary – we promised we will do something in the summer, once the kids are at camp and no one is dealing with college application deadlines of various sorts.   

And then, of course, Thanksgiving.

For which I had so many post ideas, I didn’t know where to begin. Which is why, probably, I didn’t begin anything and here I am, one week later, still working on a draft I started a month ago.

Which brings us back to schedules, and organization, or my lack thereof.

I started this post last month, upon waking up from an Instagram fever dream, as I often do on Sundays when I want to escape my family for what I think will be five minutes but usually ends up being two hours or more.

I came across some annoying content that day, which I thought was so silly and oh so beneath me, but also made me feel inadequate and confused. That’s always the dynamic on Instagram for me. Claiming it’s not serious while being affected by it more than I care to admit.

Case in point, the moms out there boasting about their perfect schedules.

Unlikely videos of Gucci-wearing creatures filming themselves in silk pyjamas at 4:45 am on weekdays.

They proceed to walk us, terrified and fascinated viewers, through the morning routine of their family of seven – four of the children being under five, naturally.

These weird specimens keep a suspicious-looking green juice by their bed.

Drinking it is the first step of their morning routine. 

Once the green juice has been absorbed, they go for a run in the dark, or hit their state-of-the-art home gym, before the journaling and meditation part of the morning.

This all happens before they even turn on their coffee maker at 6:15 am.

They finally wake up their progeny at 6:45 am but fear not, breakfast has been ready since the night before, and color-coded, Goldie Locks-style bowls of oatmeal are awaiting all children on the marble kitchen island – except for the baby who is being nursed in the background, with a beatific smile on the mother’s face.

At 7:30 am the lovely crew hops into the family’s giant S.U.V and off they go, the perfect pre-school morning for the perfectly refreshed, toned, and clear-minded mom clad in Lululemon yoga pants and a loose, pillow-like beige down jacket from Montcler.

The mom is also holding a giant Stanley cup. It is the United States, after all.

Once the children have been dropped off, that perfect creature begins her over-productive day as a mompreneur, tending to her million-dollar business before she promptly shuts off her laptop at 2:15 pm, slipping into a beige wool coat and getting back into her S.U.V for school pick-up and various sport practices.

That mom runs her business AND takes care of all five children with minimum help, makes delicious home-cooked meals and makes self-deprecating jokes about the inexistent mess in her house and her gorgeous, tanned, and outrageously fit-looking husband.

She is now explaining to us how easy it is to do it all, with just a little planning and organization.

Somewhere in her Instagram feed must be a make-up tutorial for those mornings when you look and feel quite subpar but show up as your best self anyway.

My social media algorithm must think I might need a boost every once in a while, as it periodically feeds me this type of content in the middle of the comedians, “real mom” type of accounts I usually check out on the weekend (I block all social media during the week, and it works quite well. Don’t ask me why I don’t also do it on the weekend. The answer is that I spend 48 hours with my four children and don’t handle it quite as well as the beige-clad mom. I need my escape at regular doses).

A little aspirational content might do her good, the algorithm thinks. Or so it seems.

Last month, did it have a camera into my bedroom, scanning the ten different peel-and-stick wallpaper samples I pasted above my bed six months ago without taking any action because this is just a rental and who knows if we will still be there next year, because I really, really miss home?

It must have, because a sneaky video of a gorgeous blonde woman in her mid to late thirties popped up in my feed.

We see the woman opening the gate to her grand Georgian house in London, and she proceeds with giving us a complete tour of the perfectly renovated beauty.

She had more than 2,000 comments. “It’s gorgeous”, “OMG so beautiful!”, “thank you for taking the time out of your busy day to share this space with us” (like it’s a chore or something, the altruistic gesture of a goddess of renovation who deigns to give us a peek of her woman-made paradise).            

People – women, let’s be real – ask her where her faucets come from, what colour paint she used in the kitchen, is the stove a Lacanche?

I stare in disbelief while I ponder the story state of my own walls, my own apartment and my own organizational skills.            

Are there really people who think their own life is so perfect and wonderful that it deserves to be shared with the whole wide world? And so many insecure women who drink that content like they have been parched for months?

What have we become as women, as mothers, that we keep adhering to this myth of the one who has it all, and drive ourselves miserable in this constant struggle to look like we keep it all together?          

As far as I’m concerned, all I could see that day when I looked back to the past week was the following:

-       A sick child at home for two days because of incessant coughing – incessant only public transportation because at home, he is obviously fine, while my day and all writing aspirations are ruined.

-       Two days of school cancelled because of parent-teacher conferences. The 17-year-old staying home on younger sibling’s conference days because of a nasty stomach bug. That makes it four days of rotten mood and inner cursing about the state of the world and the number of children I procreated.

-       Four days of my usual routine thrown out the window, and it wasn’t even Thanksgiving or Winter break yet.

I felt crabby and resentful and were it not for the short breaks I mentioned above, I would have completely lost my mind around that time.

I am not back to perfection, far from it. On Monday I felt the all-too familiar urge to go lie down on my bed as soon as I walked in the door with my boys. The prospect of the three hours that lay ahead of me before my husband’s return was just too daunting. Sometimes the weariness is so strong, my entire body goes limb and I need to take a few minutes to myself before I go back to my boys, their homework, their piano practice, the dinner that needs preparing.

Lately making dinner every night has been nothing but a chore.

I know I should follow my therapist’s advice and hire a baby-sitter, for my own sanity and that of my children. I still have much guilt around that, as long as I am not officially working. But if I don’t even enjoy cooking anymore that might be a sign.   

Easy dishes still work, though. Like this random Barilla recipe I came across after craving the pear and Gorgonzola ravioli I once could get at Agata and Valentina’s.

They don’t seem to make them anymore, but one can whip up this pasta equivalent in under thirty minutes from start to finish, and there is much comfort in knowing that. Especially as the days get even shorter and temperatures in New York are about to go below the freezing point.

Even my 17-year-old cracked a smile last night once he had his first bite, and smiles are hard to come by these days as college application season is still in full swing.So, yes, a recipe, after all.     

Ingredients

For 4 servings

1 box	Farfalle pasta
1/2 cup	pasta water, plus 2 tbsp set aside, as required
2 tbsp	salted butter
1 tbsp	extra virgin olive oil
1	Bosc pear, grated
1	shallot, finely chopped
2	garlic cloves, minced
1/2 tsp	chili flakes
1/2 cup	35% cream
125 g	gorgonzola cheese, crumbled
2 tbsp	parmesan cheese, freshly grated
1/8 tsp	salt
1/4 tsp	black pepper
2 tbsp	parsley, finely chopped
2 tbsp	walnuts, toasted and chopped
	Basil for garnish (optional)

Instructions

Cook the Barilla Farfalle pasta to al dente, for 11 minutes, reserving some of the pasta cooking water.

In a large skillet, on medium heat, add the butter and olive oil. Once melted, add in the grated pear and sauté until softened.

Add in the chopped shallots and garlic, sauté until softened, add in the chili flakes and cook for another minute.

With the heat on medium low, pour in the heavy cream and add in the gorgonzola. Stir until the cheese has melted. Add in the parmesan, black pepper and salt.

Add the cooked Barilla Farfalle pasta, mixing well to coat. Add in 1 tbsp chopped parsley.

Garnish with 1/2 tbsp walnuts per serving, more parsley and a sprig of basil as desired. Best enjoyed immediately.