Before the start of every week, I fill out a detailed calendar of all of our activities for the next several days. I include during-the-day activities, my work schedule, after-school activities and meal planning, which contains suggestions by all family members within earshot. Conveniently, at the same time I also create a shopping list that coordinates with the meal plan. The calendar hangs on the inside of our pantry door, so it is very accessible for everyone to see and appreciate anytime they feel the need for a snack or have a question about the day's upcoming events.
It's very effective.
And if you believe that, let me offer you some oceanfront property in Arizona.
In reality, I do fill out a calendar every week and try to cram 400 timed events onto the tiny, tiny square the average over-sized calendar allows. My handwriting has to get so small to fit it all in that there's a good chance I can't even read it unless I resort to obnoxious abbreviations that either confuse me or make me chuckle. TT and BS and KB and SU make numerous appearances, whether I like it or not.
Sometimes, on the dreaded weekends near the end of the month when the square for Sunday has to get split between two weeks and leaves me half the room to work with, I write far into the margins, which does the trick but pains me every time I look at something so catawampus.
And while it is true I attempt to plan meals for the week, most of the time it ends up being a waste of time. During certain sport and concert seasons of the year, the dinner category reads like this for the week: fast food, concession stand, concession stand, something out of the freezer, cereal. (Last week was one of those weeks, and come Thursday night I opened a can of green beans and told the kids this was a vegetable, in case they forgot.) Or during slower times of the year when there is time, I have to deal with the arguments over food suggestions. I'm not sure why siblings insist on disagreeing, but I'm almost positive it is a pre-meditated plan to make me lose my mind and bribe them with candy to stop yelling at each other.
On the off chance I do create a menu plan and a detailed list, I would bet the special quarter I keep in my car to release the shopping cart from the lock that I will forget the list at home, sitting on the counter, right were I put it so I would not forget it.
These are my truths, my realities. These are the weak weekly attempts I make to be even slightly organized, if even for a minute.
Any longer, and I'd be daydreaming about some Phoenix sand castles and crashing waves.
Stop by and say hi at www.karriemcallister.com.