I've been living the life of a single parent for the past few days, since returning to Amsterdam on New Year's Day (though not for much longer, since Marci and Cor should be on their way back to Amsterdam at this very moment).  In addition to the single-parent dynamic, we've all been jet-lagging pretty bad.  Consequently, there have been a few minor issues that have cropped up in our household.  The cooking has been decidedly sub-par.  I've had a couple of unexpected scheduling problems with work.  And I'm not good at all when it comes to fixing Olivia's hair into pony-tails or even basic barettes.  But aside from these minor considerations, we've been getting along pretty well, if I do say so myself.  In a way, I've even felt proud of myself for being such a capable "single-parent."  Dads often get a bad rap, when it comes to managing household duties without a Lady of the House... But I've been doing just fine, thank you very much.

This morning, I smacked my alarm clock and rolled out of bed at 7:30 sharp.  I sat on the edge of the bed and tried to decide if I should do some exercise or not -- and in the end, I decided that I'd better skip it for today.  I wasn't feeling 100 percent, health-wise; and besides, the morning was going to be busy enough with trying to get breakfast for the kids, make their lunches for them, supervise their dressing and grooming routines, and chauffeuring them to school.  So I just sauntered directly to the bathroom instead for a shave and a shower.  When I got out of the shower, I got out my Bible and sat down at the dining room table for a few minutes of spiritual inspiration.  And then I got up and started unloading the dishwasher, like I usually do in the mornings before getting the kids up from bed.  Things were going pretty smoothly, and I remarked that I didn't feel the effects of jet-lag as badly today as I had on the previous few mornings.  Life was returning to normal.

And then I noticed the time on our kitchen's microwave:  8:20.  Five minutes before the time that I usually take the kids to school!

I had overslept by a whole hour, and I was so stupid and out-of-it that I didn't even realize it until 50 minutes later!  I should have been getting up at 6:30 (not 7:30), and I had apparently just kept whacking away at the alarm's snooze button for a full hour past my normal wake-up time.  But because the second and third digits of the alarm clock matched up with my usual routine, I didn't think anything of it.  Suddenly, we all went from being very organized, and capable, and totally on top of the single-parenting thing to being very chaotic, and foolish, and totally out-of-control.  I woke the kids up, and they did a great job of getting ready as quickly as possible.  I called the school and explained our situation to them, which at least elicited laughter instead of reprimands.  And in the end, even though I was about 25 minutes behind our normal routine, I was able to get the kids to school before the gate had even closed (so I don't think that we even ended up being officially late).  It really didn't end up being all that big of an issue.

Still, I learned some humility in the process.  And I built even greater anticipation, enthusiasm, and appreciation for the return of my wife tomorrow morning.  I just hope that I'll wake up for her arrival on-time.