2018 Snowball Effect

2018 has brought more than actual snowballs to us in Savannah.  The New Year Resolution snowball, for example, is crashing through my life in an avalanche of under performance and disappointment. Like an idiot, I accepted the culture dominated challenge to become better this year.  Better at everything, planning, exercising, eating, communicating, painting, marriaging, parenting, friending, oh gosh just  better at myselfing. 

As the Millennial cheekily says, "Let me put that in my planner," and pulls out her sleek smart phone... I, the dull one from the nineteen hundreds pull out my five pound notebook stand-in for my short term memory that was shot during the dawn of motherhood.   Yes, I use a PLANNER, an actual book with blank spaces for information.  It requires a separate writing utensil for it to work.  Don't get me started on Microsoft Outlook and Calendar, etc. as my phone has let me down on scheduling more times than my German Short Haired Pointer puppy has destroyed something I love.

So among the many things in the queue that I carry on from day to day in my PLANNER is the need to make a CALENDAR.  This also is not a metaphor or the name of an app for my phone.  It is an actual book filled with real pages that represent months in the year.  I like to have a calendar on the wall in the kitchen, and because I'm an odd bird, I really like to make the calendar myself.  But all of this 2018 getting better at being ME campaign became very time consuming.  Hence, February launches and I still have not made my calendar and there sits a glaring blank space on the wall where it should be.

My nine year old son, SIP, has become accustomed to checking the calendar each day to apprise himself of coming events.  SIP was home all week with the flu and Thursday night in an attempt to orient himself for going back to school Friday, he checked for the calendar on the blank space in the wall where the 2018 calendar should be.  Dismayed, he said, "What's tomorrow's date?"  I grabbed the nearest thing with a date on it and no, it was not my phone, but my PLANNER.  I opened it up to February and handed him the schedule that had not been revealed in its proper sense on the wall.  He perused it for a few seconds and said in shock, "I"m having SURGERY next Friday?!"

"Oh yeah, about THAT..." and another snowball hit me right between the eyes...metaphorically this time. 

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