The Fucking Logistics
A working mother’s stream-of-consciousness during yet another logistical meltdown, in 337 overlapping tabs.
I’m trying to work on a massive, well-funded project — a Big Deal kind of project — when my alarm goes off: time to leave immediately to get my pre-K daughter from school and drive her to aftercare.
And then take my son to therapy.
Except… his therapy was canceled today. (It was rescheduled for earlier this week, but that session was also canceled — snow.)
So technically, I can snooze the alarm. But now I’m wondering: Does therapy being canceled change anything about my afternoon?
On paper, it’s more time to work on said Big Well-Funded Project.
In practice, I’m doing this:
Realizing I could work from the community center where aftercare is (an old high school turned into a semi-chaotic hub of underfunded programming and broken outlets).
Remembering I can’t work from there because I don’t have my charger.
Because I left it at another care center.
Where I dropped both kids on Wednesday because school was closed (snow again), and my daughter’s school only had a two-hour delay (private school = chaos), and it was too disruptive to drop her off and pick her up a few hours later with my work schedule, especially after I’d already lost Monday and Tuesday to said snowstorm.
So I dropped them both and set my son up for virtual learning from this care center.
And forgot the charger there.
So now I can’t work from the aftercare center.
Which means I’ll have to come home.
Which means an extra hour of driving.
But also: what time do I get them from aftercare?
Because after that, I need to get them to the musical kids hang / date night drop-off event (???) — which I still need to:
Tell them about.
Get them excited for.
Pray they aren’t too overstimulated by the whiplash of this week to go without a meltdown.
Also: Did my husband make a dinner reservation for us?
Is he too stressed or behind from his own missed workdays to even do date night?
Where are we going?
What time?
Do I have time to shower first?
Can I shower after drop-off and before dinner?
Do I even have clean clothes to wear?
Do I drive the car home and Uber to dinner so we don’t lose parking?
Can I just work at a nearby bar or coffee shop in the meantime?
I don’t know.
Also: We haven’t talked about weekend logistics.
At all.
My work deadlines?
Today.
Tuesday.
Thursday.
So I need to get a lot done today. Which — reminder — is disappearing by the minute.
Oh! And on Monday, I have to drop the car off for service.
After school drop-off.
Which means working from the dealership.
Which means… I need the charger.
So maybe I should go pick it up today.
Which means less time to work.
Which means I should work from aftercare.
But then: definitely no shower.
NO WONDER everything feels impossible.
No wonder it’s hard to write, create, think, breathe.
This isn’t just “juggling” — it’s playing real-time logistical Jenga with zero breaks, 12 calendars, no backup, and a head full of static.
And somehow, we’re just expected to do it all.
Without dropping any blocks.
Without losing our minds.
Without saying fuck every three seconds.
But I am saying fuck.
Often.
Because the logistics are fucking real.
💌 If this felt familiar…
Subscribe. Not because there’s a paywall. Not because there’s a funnel. Just because this space is staying free (for now), and it’s cathartic for me to write it — and maybe cathartic for you to read it.
If you’ve ever found yourself drowning in the logistics and whispering “how does anyone do this?” into the void… you’re in the right place.
Let’s keep exhaling together.