In the past week, I have done three *really* stupid things. I pulled three bone-head moves and two of them involved CHILDREN. I'll be surprised if anybody ever trusts me again. Now lest you think I am engaging in criminal activity, or extreme moral misconduct, you may relax. These were just regular, old forgetful Mommy losing her brain kind of instances. But they were important, and I have nobody to blame but myself.
I think of myself as a fairly reliable person. I don't like to be late, I return phone calls promptly, and I don't lose library books (very often). So I can't reconcile these lapses of responsibility and I think I might be developing a serious ulcer over it.
I think of myself as a fairly reliable person. I don't like to be late, I return phone calls promptly, and I don't lose library books (very often). So I can't reconcile these lapses of responsibility and I think I might be developing a serious ulcer over it.
I have a calendar and I write down birthdays, 'FHE' on every Monday night, and long lines through lots of days when we're on vacations. But those little 1 1/2" squares don't have room for things like WRITE A NOTE FOR YOUR SON TO RIDE THE BUS HOME WITH HIS FRIEND LIKE YOU PROMISED SO HE DOESN'T BURST INTO TEARS WHEN THEY DON'T LET HIM ON THE BUS.
I have a spiral notebook I keep on my desk, where I keep a running list of tasks I need to take care of. It has things like get my car's oil changed, call so-and-so about thus-and-such, and mail the phone charger that Melissa left at my house a month ago. But normally, I don't jot down, DON'T MISPLACE THE 125 YEAR-OLD PICTURE OF YOUR THIRD GREAT GRANDFATHER BECAUSE CHANCES ARE IT'S THE ONLY ONE IN EXISTENCE. Clearly I should, but I don't.
My grandpa, for as long as I can remember, has kept a tiny notebook in his shirt pocket. Millions of times I have seen him pull it out to jot something down, or to look up a birthday. If one were to collect all of those little books, they would probably spell out his life history.
Look closely, you can see Grandpa's little notebook and pen. You can bet he wouldn't ever forget to pick up a child someone was depending on him to pick up and have to get a phone call reminding him of how lame he was. So maybe I need to invest in a tiny notebook, a pen that doesn't leak, and a whole lot of shirts with pockets in the front. Then I might be able to keep my friends and my sanity. And if you happen to be somebody who has suffered from my lame-ness, please accept my apologies!
3 comments:
Picture Carly, a little first grader, sitting by herself on the lawn of Cascade school because her loony mother forgot it was the dreaded "early out" day. Picture Laurie sitting (soaking wet) in front of the rec center because her mother thought her swimming lesson was an hour, not 1/2 hour. I could tell other stories about you and
Scott being left!!! Oh well...
Did Wilson seriously not get to take the bus home?? Poor little guy. I'll buy you a notebook at B&N.
I actually got hold of my Grandpa Snow's little book that he used to write in. It is one of my greatest treasures. Writing things down that way must be a dying method... taken over by technology.
Post a Comment