The household calendar has been my responsibility for 20-plus years. Any human being in charge of his or her family calendar understands the significance of this duty. The calendar is the helm of the family ship. It steers us in the direction dictated by the day's agenda. A good captain holds tight to the helm and ensures accurate and efficient schedule fulfillment.
Problem is, I'm not much of a captain. I'm more like Gilligan.
If a schedule or appointment can be confused, bumbled, misinterpreted, forgotten or otherwise discombobulated, I am your gal. I did it again today. You'd think after all these years my husband would be fed up with my inadequacy and take over the duties himself - sort of like what I did with him and the laundry.
Who am I kidding? He's smarter than that.
So here we are, less than a week into the latest youth sports season. Today was the Parent Meeting. Over the years I've missed more Parent Meetings than the castaways missed opportunities for getting off that darn island. But not today. Today I was prepared. I wrote "PARENT MEETING" in big letters on the calendar. At the appointed hour both my husband and I were in attendance, practically wearing our Responsible Parent badges.
As we waited for the meeting to start, one of the moms wondered out loud if the kids were almost done practicing.
Practicing?
My face took on the expression of a deer in the headlights: dazed, stunned and unsure which way to run. I looked desperately around the room, hoping to see other confused parents. They were an antlerless bunch.
"There was practice today?" I tried to sound nonchalant as I asked the facetious question.
"It was listed on the website," said one mom.
"In two places," said another.
Oops.
I'd checked the schedule three times that day and knew one thing for certain: it was completely my fault. Somehow I'd glossed over the entry labeled "Practice" and replaced it with the words, "Take the afternoon off." There wasn't anything I could say in my defense, so I said nothing. After 20-plus years of scheduling blunders, you learn to shut up and minimize your damages. And avoid eye contact with your husband.
In the end, I fessed up to the team manager about my scheduling inabilities. She was understanding. They usually are until they experience a season or two of my schedulitis.
When I got home, I told my son about the gaffe. "Great, I missed already," he said. "I told you there was practice today."
I didn't remember that conversation. But again, when you've got a record like mine you recall not recalling any number of conversations that may or may not have taken place on previous occasions for which you most likely cannot pin down the date or time.
"I know," he said. "I'll keep track of my own schedule. Then I won't miss anything."
The kid had a point. Besides, what do I have to lose? (Other than my scheduling reputation, and we all know that went down with the S.S. Minnow.)
It's ingenious, really - turning the schedule reigns over to a 12-year-old. He'll probably get himself to practice on time and may even learn a lesson about responsibility as a bonus. I figure he can't do any worse than me and now that I don't have to worry about being calendar captain I'll be free to simply go with the flow and enjoy the games.
It's going to be a great season.
- Jill Pertler's column appears every Thursday in the Times. She can be reached at pertmn@qwest.net.
Problem is, I'm not much of a captain. I'm more like Gilligan.
If a schedule or appointment can be confused, bumbled, misinterpreted, forgotten or otherwise discombobulated, I am your gal. I did it again today. You'd think after all these years my husband would be fed up with my inadequacy and take over the duties himself - sort of like what I did with him and the laundry.
Who am I kidding? He's smarter than that.
So here we are, less than a week into the latest youth sports season. Today was the Parent Meeting. Over the years I've missed more Parent Meetings than the castaways missed opportunities for getting off that darn island. But not today. Today I was prepared. I wrote "PARENT MEETING" in big letters on the calendar. At the appointed hour both my husband and I were in attendance, practically wearing our Responsible Parent badges.
As we waited for the meeting to start, one of the moms wondered out loud if the kids were almost done practicing.
Practicing?
My face took on the expression of a deer in the headlights: dazed, stunned and unsure which way to run. I looked desperately around the room, hoping to see other confused parents. They were an antlerless bunch.
"There was practice today?" I tried to sound nonchalant as I asked the facetious question.
"It was listed on the website," said one mom.
"In two places," said another.
Oops.
I'd checked the schedule three times that day and knew one thing for certain: it was completely my fault. Somehow I'd glossed over the entry labeled "Practice" and replaced it with the words, "Take the afternoon off." There wasn't anything I could say in my defense, so I said nothing. After 20-plus years of scheduling blunders, you learn to shut up and minimize your damages. And avoid eye contact with your husband.
In the end, I fessed up to the team manager about my scheduling inabilities. She was understanding. They usually are until they experience a season or two of my schedulitis.
When I got home, I told my son about the gaffe. "Great, I missed already," he said. "I told you there was practice today."
I didn't remember that conversation. But again, when you've got a record like mine you recall not recalling any number of conversations that may or may not have taken place on previous occasions for which you most likely cannot pin down the date or time.
"I know," he said. "I'll keep track of my own schedule. Then I won't miss anything."
The kid had a point. Besides, what do I have to lose? (Other than my scheduling reputation, and we all know that went down with the S.S. Minnow.)
It's ingenious, really - turning the schedule reigns over to a 12-year-old. He'll probably get himself to practice on time and may even learn a lesson about responsibility as a bonus. I figure he can't do any worse than me and now that I don't have to worry about being calendar captain I'll be free to simply go with the flow and enjoy the games.
It's going to be a great season.
- Jill Pertler's column appears every Thursday in the Times. She can be reached at pertmn@qwest.net.
