The Dry Erase Calendar . . .
This morning I was trying to figure out which day of the week my mother's birthday would be this year. I was in the kitchen, and, out of habit, glanced at our dry erase calendar on the side of the fridge.
About a year ago, I picked up this large, plain, dry erase board at Target. With a permanent marker, I made 35 equal squares on it, to represent the days of each month. It became The Family Calendar. And, for about a year, every month, I would take the calendar, fill in all the dates of the month, and write down all of the engagements we had for that month; indicate which bills needed to be mailed on what day; excitedly write in birthdays, special events, anniversaries and parties to attend. The calendar was color-coded. Adam's engagements were written in blue, mine in green, and joint engagements were in purple. Organization at it's best.
Well - this morning, when I glanced over to find the date, I was disappointed. The last calendar update was made on May 11th, 2008 and ended on June 14th. So very telling. It is as if time stopped for us in early June. And essentially, it did. There's a little pink entry for June 11th - it says "Lily Ann". That was the date we were told she might come. And that seemed to be the only date on our minds.
I want to get back on task. But I don't know if I'm ready to emerge from the time warp. I'm comfortably wrapped up in love for this new baby we have at home. She's still so new, so special . . . so absolutely perfect. I don't know if I want to jump back into the reality of everyday life so soon. I've been keeping up on the bills online, remembering most birthdays and other such events. None of us has missed any doctor's appointments or forgotten the weekend was coming. I suppose I'm a little apprehensive that if we move on with life as we once knew it, this newborn bliss will fade and disappear. That we'll be left with little more than a calendar, full of unimportant dates. It seems superstitious and silly, I know. But those were the feelings that hit me this morning as I contemplated updating our family calendar.
Even now, as I sit with her. She's just finished nursing and fallen asleep on my lap. It is 10am and since about six this morning, she's been smiling and playful. We've had another one of the best mornings of my whole life. She puts so much more meaning and purpose into my days. She's so much more important than "Thursday 50 cent Wing Night" or "Verizon bill due on the 20th". My priorities are (in order) Lily Ann, breathing, eating, sleeping . . . and so on. My husband makes the list - within the top five I'm sure. But, honestly, I'm at home, sustaining a life. Her every need is in my hands. I've never had this kind of responsibility before. I turn my head for a moment and she could fall off the changing table, choke on spittle or be smothered by fluffy bedding. Some things just have to fall off the list of priorities for now. And I'm willing to sacrifice the comfort of a planned month for the time being.
Well - this morning, when I glanced over to find the date, I was disappointed. The last calendar update was made on May 11th, 2008 and ended on June 14th. So very telling. It is as if time stopped for us in early June. And essentially, it did. There's a little pink entry for June 11th - it says "Lily Ann". That was the date we were told she might come. And that seemed to be the only date on our minds.
I want to get back on task. But I don't know if I'm ready to emerge from the time warp. I'm comfortably wrapped up in love for this new baby we have at home. She's still so new, so special . . . so absolutely perfect. I don't know if I want to jump back into the reality of everyday life so soon. I've been keeping up on the bills online, remembering most birthdays and other such events. None of us has missed any doctor's appointments or forgotten the weekend was coming. I suppose I'm a little apprehensive that if we move on with life as we once knew it, this newborn bliss will fade and disappear. That we'll be left with little more than a calendar, full of unimportant dates. It seems superstitious and silly, I know. But those were the feelings that hit me this morning as I contemplated updating our family calendar.
Even now, as I sit with her. She's just finished nursing and fallen asleep on my lap. It is 10am and since about six this morning, she's been smiling and playful. We've had another one of the best mornings of my whole life. She puts so much more meaning and purpose into my days. She's so much more important than "Thursday 50 cent Wing Night" or "Verizon bill due on the 20th". My priorities are (in order) Lily Ann, breathing, eating, sleeping . . . and so on. My husband makes the list - within the top five I'm sure. But, honestly, I'm at home, sustaining a life. Her every need is in my hands. I've never had this kind of responsibility before. I turn my head for a moment and she could fall off the changing table, choke on spittle or be smothered by fluffy bedding. Some things just have to fall off the list of priorities for now. And I'm willing to sacrifice the comfort of a planned month for the time being.
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