On how many separate occasions am I am going to drive right past my driveway, turning in a sad circle at the nearest cross street, before I start to pay attention? How many school events will I miss because I failed to attune to the weekly newsletter sent home with The Boss? How many friends' birthdays forgotten? How many vitamins missed?
Today a friend asked if I was planning to attend tomorrow's Parent/Child Night at The Boss's pre-school.
"What?" I asked.
"Parent/Child Night," she repeated.
"What?" I said.
"Don't you read the newsletter?"
"Apparently not."
"Didn't you see the sign on the door?"
"Nope."
In my written life, I'm more focused. I can edit myself...which I do, a lot. The results are not perfect, but they are usually not scattered the way my real life inspiration is. I remember things on the page. I am collected on the screen. I am careful. It's almost as if I'm a different person.
In the home and on the road and at various stops in between, I am all over the place. And it's usually not where I set out to be.
Binky
I report to both of them. It's the best job I ever had.
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3 comments:
Dude, if I had a dollar for every time I accidentally drove past my house. I'd be so rich.
Oh all of us get that way when we have little ones. I'm hoping that when the kids are a little older I'll start to remember things again. As it is I'm leaving notes all over the place, then losing the notes. Thank goodness for other people making comments like that. I'd never be at any of those things otherwise.
Once upon a time I was organized to the point of obnoxiousness. Add 2 kids and I"m doing good to remember my own name.
Hey, I made it easier to enter to win on the 12 Days of Christmas if you wanna come play along.
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