The Ways of the Mind

This morning I'm thinking about all the decisions our brains process in the course of a day—or even a minute.

This week I've been on grandma duty for a 9-year-old boy and a 7-year-old girl—my little darlings. But the schedule that they are on to get their Recommended Daily Allowance of art, education and culture would choke a bus driver: Monday is Boston's band practice; he's learning trumpet. Tuesday is piano at SMARTS. Wednesday is modern dance. Thursday is Suzuki piano (the Jazzman keeps calling it Kawasaki piano, Boston keeps correcting him, and I keep laughing) followed by ballet for the Ridley. Friday, nothing. Great sigh of relief emanating from the grandma/driver/organizer.

I didn't even cover the morning schedule their mother has so carefully orchestrated. Up at 6:30 or earlier, downstairs and eat breakfast, practice piano or get dressed, alternating as there is one piano for two pianists. Out the door at 8:00 a.m. Race down the interstate and get in the drop-off line at its three-cars-at-a-time pace.

Hurry up. Wait. Hurry up. Wait. Stay alert.

Sigh.

(And I haven't even addressed trying to fit my work in amidst all the driving and organizing. I was awake at 5:00, laptop in bed, working on a client's Web content.)

So think about the number of decisions. The incident this morning that really got me going on this track occurred as I was getting out of the car, back at my house after spending the night at the babes' house.

I was carrying my big bag filled with four knitting projects (it's holiday-gifts-for-teachers time, y'know?), a plastic grocery bag carrying the new project that I work on while waiting in the drop-off/pick-up line; my leather tote bag with laptop and adapters; my purse; and my trash from my Friday morning you're-a-good-grandma treat at S'bux. To get to that point, however, I had to mentally sort through everything on the front seat. Does this piece of paper go in? No, You've got to take it to the doctor's office this morning after the window guy comes to install the kitchen windowsill. Does this bag of music go in? No, you've got to take it to a copy shop to make reduced-size copies so you get get ready for next Saturday's Stambaugh Chorus performance. And so on.

My keys were in my hand. I got to the door and realized I was wearing my sunglasses and had left my reading glasses in the car. Do I turn around and go back to get the glasses? No, this is too much stuff to carry. Do I set it down on the back porch and go to get the glasses? No, get it into the house and set it down once.

I maneuvered the door and the security system and placed bags on the kitchen counter and the floor, then went back to the car. Once I was back in the house, I started gathering bags again to go up the back stairs to my office. Then I realized I had left the half-empty S'bux mocha cup in the car. Go back [again] and get it out of the car or leave it to sip on, cold, later? Go back. Out. In. Out. In. Once in and ready to go up, decide whether to lock the back door or leave it unlocked so the window guy can just come in when he gets here.

See what I mean? And that was just in the course of five minutes or less!

Then you get to your desk. You've got multiple projects ahead. Do you work on the bookkeeping, which is ongoing, or finish the work you started at 5:00 a.m., or do a quick post to a client's Facebook page, or start something new that's done today.

Weighing. Balancing. Choosing.

Thoughts in closing?

1. I wish all that brainwork burned more calories.


2. I think I'll take the kids to a playground after school and just let them be kids!

P.S. The Jazzman and I have been talking about it all week. We think life was much simpler in the 50s and 60s!

P.P.S. And if I haven't said so explicitly, the Jazzman moved in last Saturday. And I have hardly seen him all week. There's something quite unfair to him about all this, but he's been understanding and wonderfully helpful about it, taking care of the kids two evenings while I attend obligatory rehearsals.