date night!

Tonight, Heath and I get to go on a date, by ourselves. This does not happen often since we moved away from family. Not only that, but we get to go to U23D, which we have been looking forward to ever since we heard about it. Ever since I bought the tickets yesterday morning and scheduled a babysitter, I have been really excited. That is, until this morning, when the reality of getting things ready for a babysitter hit me full force.

Here is the problem with getting ready for a babysitter to come over to our house. You don't have to just prepare for what you expect to happen - i.e., something ready or available for dinner, a bottle for the baby in the fridge, books and PJs ready for bedtimes, and phone numbers written down. You have to prepare for all the things that could possibly happen that the babysitter could possibly have to deal with. What if one of the kids wets their beds before we get home? Are there clean sheets and blankets washed, and are they somewhere they can readily be found? Are there extra sets of PJs and clothes available in case they are needed? If she pulls open their dresser drawers will she find these clothes readily, or will she find a jumbled mess of unmatched socks, underwear, a few odd pieces of clothing and spare toy parts thrown in for good measure? If the kids ask for chocolate milk, will she open the fridge and see a sippy cup half-full of chocolate milk and think it is from earlier today, when it was actually abandoned there a week or two ago? If the kids ask for a snack before bed, will she find crackers and granola bars in the cabinet, or just a few cans of beans and a bag of flour?

So rather than tidying up and getting a few things prepared, I start feeling like I have to clean and organize EVERYTHING. I need to clean out the fridge so the spoiled milk incident doesn't happen. I need to go to the store to stock the kitchen appropriately. I need to do all the laundry and organize the dresser drawers and linen closet so everything can be found. I need to check in every drawer and behind every door that might need to be opened for any reason, and make sure whatever is in there is accessible and not surrounded by anything embarrassing. And about the time I realize this - usually around 10 am on the day we have scheduled a babysitter for the evening - is the time I start having a panic attack in anticipation of the panic I will feel later that afternoon when I only have 3 hours, or 2 hours, or finally 1 hour to get it all finished. It doesn't matter that I tell myself it is ridiculous to panic now, that I still have many hours and that even my long list of tasks shouldn't take that long. I think of all the things that could get in the way of me getting these things completed, and I think of the embarrassment or helplessness or disorientation I feel when I don't get them complete, and my heart starts racing and my lung capacity gets cut in half and the problem-solving, task-oriented part of my brain shuts down. Nice.

Sometimes these days end with an emotional rant at Heath about how I always get stuck with this responsibility, and how unfair it all is. I don't really feel this way, but the pain of anxiety begs to be unleashed and targeted somewhere other than at my own fragile sense self-worth. Heath has learned that he can usually avoid this rant being directed at him if he does one or two things to help the night before, particularly any household task I find particularly daunting. He didn't do that last night, but hopefully I'll still manage to regain an excited and relaxed attitude before show time tonight. I have already snapped at the kids several times this morning, which doesn't make me feel any better, actually.

Hate... the... feeling... of... tension...