Serenity Now!

Frank Costanza says it best when he screams, "Serenity now!" in the middle of a stressful situation. I'm going to start doing this as well, since I clearly need a mechanism for coping with stress. This morning we had a cheerleading competition that turned out to be a disaster. Here's a recap:

6:30 a.m. Wake up, shower, burn CD of competition music
7:00 a.m. Put the kids in the tub, construct four messy buns, find four white socks, head downstairs
8:00 a.m. Attempt to get the kids to eat
8:10 a.m. Listen to CD four times to verify proper working order...check!
8:31 a.m. Don shoes and coats, grab gigantic diaper bag full of baby gear, cheerleading gear, children's entertainment items, food, etc.
8:45 a.m. Load three carseats into my mom's Suburban, hit the road
9:30 a.m. Arrive at competition, register, and enjoy one last moment of peace and quiet
9:55 a.m. Escort twelve two-to-four-year-olds through a maze of screaming tweens, cranky and obsessive parents, and idiotic competition staff members to the practice gym for warm-up
9:56 a.m. Answer Adam's call to tell him where to be to watch the competition while helping six Tiny Tot cheerleaders build a pyramid
9:58 a.m. Answer Adam's call to tell him to wait outside and I'll find him and give him his ticket
9:59 a.m. Get kicked off the practice mat before our turn is over because the competition is ahead of schedule and we're supposed to be on the performance mat in the other gym
10:00 a.m. Drag my two crying daughters and ten other cheerleaders to the performance gym and run onto the mat
10:01 a.m. Convince all twelve girls to assemble in their formation instead of standing right next to each other
10:02 a.m. Start the music, do the routine in front of the mat, instantly freak out when the music stops playing halfway through
10:03 a.m. Coax all twelve girls to finish the routine even though the music has stopped
10:05 a.m. Head out to the commons to find Adam standing there, missing his Bar prep class, waiting for his ticket so he can watch his daughters perform (who had just performed)
10:06 a.m. Fight back tears for being a crappy wife while explaining to seven frustrated moms that I don't know what happened to the music
10:07 a.m. Assemble 12 Mini cheerleaders and escort them through a maze of screaming tweens, cranky and obsessive parents, and idiotic competition staff members
10:15 a.m. Realize my practice stereo won't work and take the Mini cheerleaders through their routine twice without music (no stunts hit, they couldn't remember their formations, and we didn't know which way we would face in the gym)
10:20 a.m. Run on the mat and direct traffic to get everyone in their proper places
10:21 a.m. Kneel down and flail frantically while trying to get the cheerleaders to catch up with their music
10:22 a.m. Music stops again; girls run around with no clue of what to do while I'm whisper-screaming "Keep going! Keep going!"
10:23 a.m. Fight back tears again
10:24 a.m. Leave the gym, move to commons to regroup
10:25 a.m. Face four more frustrated moms and secretly avoid one mom on purpose (what can I say...I'm a wimp!)
10:45 a.m. Move three carseats from the Suburban to our Honda, pack the double stroller, the gigantic diaper bag, the broken stereo, and a bag of 48 pom poms into the trunk while listening to three kids whining and crying
11:00 a.m. Head for home with an immense stress headache
11:37 a.m. Adam (who hasn't slept for 36 hours) falls asleep while driving and we narrowly escape a wreck
11:43 a.m. Walk through the door and contemplate faking a collapse from exhaustion a la Paris Hilton and/or Mariah Carey
2:40 p.m. Blog about it for some well-deserved therapy and closure