I found myself last month frantically racing against the clock to figure out which of the myriad recreational activities I should select for my children this fall. It was terribly disheartening watching all of the good swim lesson slots being scooped up with every refresh of my screen, and even more stressful trying to coordinate the lessons with our increasingly busy schedule. Then, just as I had it all figured out, I started to have doubts. Maybe now is the time for her to start dance classes? Or gymnastics, I loved gymnastics so perhaps she will too. Oops, I've forgotten about skating, when does that start again? Before long, I was mapping out the various activities on a large grid, scribbling course codes into what looked to be some sort of Venn diagram in a vain attempt to make sense of this madness while cross-referencing my Google calendar. Then, thankfully, reality struck me while I was chatting with an old friend. I was reminded of a simpler time in my life,
from kegels to chemo and beyond