I never said what kind of picture, and anyway I feel this calendar best represents my life.
It’s not imperative you be able to read everything on the calendar. What is important is that you’re able to view the calendar. Do a double take, perhaps, because that’s a lot of writing. For one month. And I didn’t even fill out the last week (I haven’t gotten that far).
This calendar is ridiculous, and yet it’s my life. That can only mean one thing. My life is ridiculous. I suppose I’ve always known that, but when you see it in stark black and white scribbled furiously across nearly every single one of those little squares, you suddenly realize just how ridiculous your life really is.
While I’ve never sought a ridiculous life and while I’ve done everything in my power to contain the ridiculousness, somehow I can never get away from it. The world keeps creeping in and ruining things for me. For some bizarre reason I’ll never understand the rest of the world seems perfectly fine with this schedule.
What’s even more insane is that my kids aren’t signed up for a million and one activities. They’re involved in one or two a piece, but with two kids, a traveling husband, school commitments, holiday gatherings, social engagements, birthday parties, doctor’s appointments, and random miscelaneous stuff kids force you to do like take them to the school carnival in order to feel like a “good” mom this is what you get.
Then, a few days ago I was prompted to take a cold, hard look at my calendar and my life and seriously reconsider the type of mom I wanted to be (might prefer to be a bad one – it’ll be a lot easier) when this happened.
And that was after last week when she told me (with a day’s notice this time) she had a concert on Friday, which come Friday I found out was a false alarm. Dodged that bullet. But I shouldn’t have rested on my laurels. I should have known better because when there’s talk of a concert, there will be a concert, and you had better just prepare yourself for when. Turns out the concert The Kid thought was on Friday was really the following Tuesday, but she neglected to pay attention to, care about or mention it until about 3 hours before show time.
You might be wondering how a child of 12 who goes to school all day long every day of her life to the same classes with the same teachers, interacting with the same classmates could not have known the date of the choir/band concert in which nearly the entire school participates, until the day of said concert. I have wondered the same thing. I have questioned The Kid. I have asked how one knows nothing of a concert until a few hours before because I have severe doubts it was a surprise concert or that the teacher was trying to trick everyone in the Middle School and, by extension their parents for whom the concert was performed, by presenting an impromptu top secret mystery concert using kids who were completely unaware to perform.
Concerts, in genreal, take some planning and a little practice. But with The Kid I can never get a straight answer. According to her this concert was never once mentioned in school.
At this point you might say, but surely you received notice of the Spring Concert from the school. A flyer or some sort of announcement had to be sent home, to which I can only say: No. Our district likes to keep us guessing. They feel it keeps the excitement alive. The only notifications we get from the school are the ones announcing the need for more money with pleas to “please support your child’s education.” Other than that we don’t hear a word unless you want to count the bajillion emails they send regarding “family night” or the menu choices for hot lunch, neither of which I’m interested in so I largely ignore communications from the school.
Either way my daughter is in 6th grade, has been in choir for 2 years and is fully fluent in English so why she doesn’t have a God damn clue as to when her choir concert is I can’t say. And it just so happened the surprise mystery concert landed on the same day as The Kid’s guitar lesson, the architects’ last minute plan to drop in and take measurements (and I couldn’t refuse because we are nearing summertime & we need to break ground on this shit before I’m living in a roofless house for winter), and my son had his first session with the math tutor whom I hired to prevent him from failing out of middle school next year and because he struggles with abstract concepts and I live in fear that both my kids will flunk out and wind up living on the street because Lord knows I’m not taking care of them for the rest of my life. All of which happened to occur at the exact same time (see May 14th).
After I shuffled everyone around and got dinner on the table early, I dropped The Kid off at the school for her 6:00 rehearsal, an hour ahead of the 7:00 concert. The parents are expected to return home or otherwise wander aimlessly around the school grounds for forty-five minutes because the doors don’t open until 6:45. I chose to run back home so my son could finish dinner and I could meet up with Mr. Potato Head who hadn’t yet returned home from work.
Did I mention Tuesday was also the day of the town-wide elections and since our taxes keep going up without any noticeable benefits, I encouraged Mr. Potato Head to go vote before the concert because if he waited until afterward the polls would be closed. So we got to the concert a few minutes before the start and found a spot in the back row and waited for an hour to see my daughter perform three songs with 50 other students. I think I heard her.
I am glad I consulted my calendar, though, because I noticed my wedding anniversary is on Monday. It had completely slipped my mind.
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