I like to keep a paper calendar. Several, in fact. I have my work calendar. I have the family calendar.
I have my personal calendar. It starts out every month like this.
Just a few birthdays.
I will eventually fill in my days off. Then I fill in any doctor or dentist appointments, teacher conferences. I'll fill in Girl Scouts, Cub Scouts, after school activities, sports events. Finally it looks like this. This is just the necessary things that I have to be aware of. If I'm lucky, I can add something like a girl's night out, a date night, or a short trip to somewhere fun.
I'm not unique. I'll bet that every mother or father has a calendar somewhere like this. Maybe it's just in their heads, but it exists, and it's important. It keeps us from forgetting things and making mistakes like dropping the wrong kid off for swim lessons, or forgetting to pick up another one from an after school club.
I started keeping a calendar because of one notoriously "Bad Mommy" mistake from my life. I forgot to take Hannah to preschool. I forgot to take her on her first day. Her first day of preschool. This huge milestone in both of our lives, and I forgot it. I felt like failure. On first days of school, parents take photos, cry a little... I just forgot. It's not like you can take pictures on the second day, even if it's your first day, because that's just admitting that you forgot to be there in the first place. I forgot. I cried. I beat myself up over it. My little girl was growing up (she was four) and I was already tuning her out. She was blissfully unaware of my Mommy Drama. She had no clue what she had missed (in retrospect, not much.) When I recently admitted to her of my failures as a parent, Hannah looked at me blankly. "I went to preschool?" she said.
I've always remembered my mistakes. I remember turning off the timer when my mother was making kolaczkis for my dad on their anniversary when I was five or six. The timer went off. I wanted to help. I turned off the timer. I'd seen Mom do it hundreds of times. I knew what I was doing. I was making her life easier while she was outside in the garden. The kolaczkis burned. Burned to a nasty crisp. She yelled at me because it was a present for Dad. It was the only present she had for him, and I'd ruined it. She might have cried. I know I did.
I recalled this story thirty two years later to Mom, and she looked at me blankly. "I don't even remember that," she told me.
"Seriously?" I asked. "Because I remember it so well."
"No. I don't remember it. Are you sure?"
Was I sure? I had deep seated guilt about this for my entire life. I had royally screwed up my parents' anniversary. I was sure they would get divorced, or at the very least sell me to gypsies. I knew that this was why I wasn't a favored child and was cursed with acne. This is the reason for my deep seated ambivalence towards baking. "Yeah. I'm sure."
"Oh. Well, I'm sorry."
My calendars are an attempt to alleviate the mistakes in my life. They don't always work--especially the family calendar. Other people have to look at it for it to be effective (not that I'd complain, but if you need gym shoes at school one day a week, check the calendar for what day that might be!)
Mistakes are transient. We don't always know what sticks or what will be remembered once an event is over. I just have to remember which kid to drop off at the park and which kid to drop off at the pool. It's not that hard.
To be honest though, I've never let the kids near the timer on the stove. I don't want to scar them with the same mistakes I made.
I have my personal calendar. It starts out every month like this.
Just a few birthdays.
I will eventually fill in my days off. Then I fill in any doctor or dentist appointments, teacher conferences. I'll fill in Girl Scouts, Cub Scouts, after school activities, sports events. Finally it looks like this. This is just the necessary things that I have to be aware of. If I'm lucky, I can add something like a girl's night out, a date night, or a short trip to somewhere fun.
I'm not unique. I'll bet that every mother or father has a calendar somewhere like this. Maybe it's just in their heads, but it exists, and it's important. It keeps us from forgetting things and making mistakes like dropping the wrong kid off for swim lessons, or forgetting to pick up another one from an after school club.
I started keeping a calendar because of one notoriously "Bad Mommy" mistake from my life. I forgot to take Hannah to preschool. I forgot to take her on her first day. Her first day of preschool. This huge milestone in both of our lives, and I forgot it. I felt like failure. On first days of school, parents take photos, cry a little... I just forgot. It's not like you can take pictures on the second day, even if it's your first day, because that's just admitting that you forgot to be there in the first place. I forgot. I cried. I beat myself up over it. My little girl was growing up (she was four) and I was already tuning her out. She was blissfully unaware of my Mommy Drama. She had no clue what she had missed (in retrospect, not much.) When I recently admitted to her of my failures as a parent, Hannah looked at me blankly. "I went to preschool?" she said.
I've always remembered my mistakes. I remember turning off the timer when my mother was making kolaczkis for my dad on their anniversary when I was five or six. The timer went off. I wanted to help. I turned off the timer. I'd seen Mom do it hundreds of times. I knew what I was doing. I was making her life easier while she was outside in the garden. The kolaczkis burned. Burned to a nasty crisp. She yelled at me because it was a present for Dad. It was the only present she had for him, and I'd ruined it. She might have cried. I know I did.
I recalled this story thirty two years later to Mom, and she looked at me blankly. "I don't even remember that," she told me.
"Seriously?" I asked. "Because I remember it so well."
"No. I don't remember it. Are you sure?"
Was I sure? I had deep seated guilt about this for my entire life. I had royally screwed up my parents' anniversary. I was sure they would get divorced, or at the very least sell me to gypsies. I knew that this was why I wasn't a favored child and was cursed with acne. This is the reason for my deep seated ambivalence towards baking. "Yeah. I'm sure."
"Oh. Well, I'm sorry."
My calendars are an attempt to alleviate the mistakes in my life. They don't always work--especially the family calendar. Other people have to look at it for it to be effective (not that I'd complain, but if you need gym shoes at school one day a week, check the calendar for what day that might be!)
Mistakes are transient. We don't always know what sticks or what will be remembered once an event is over. I just have to remember which kid to drop off at the park and which kid to drop off at the pool. It's not that hard.
To be honest though, I've never let the kids near the timer on the stove. I don't want to scar them with the same mistakes I made.
