On the Road

The lazy summer days are over. This is evidenced by my family calendar. It is the latest addition to our hallway decor. Some have family photos, others framed artwork or posters. The Friedes family? We have a 24×36 laminated calendar with four colors of penmanship scrawled across sixty squares.

This is a new system for us. It was spawned by a classic Mom Mess Up.

“Mom, it’s minimum day,” Olivia’s sweet voice came through my phone.

I looked at my watch. I needed to pick her up from school in precisely 30 minutes – about 3 hours earlier than I had planned. Although I had checked the school’s website that morning, I hadn’t looked at the newsletter that my daughter brought home on her first day of school – a week ago.

“No worries, sweetie. I’ll meet you at the upper playground.” I knew this location would be faster than our usual meeting point, buying me an extra ten minutes in my office.

Yet, all well-intentioned spontaneous plans can go awry. And this one did. I knew it as I wandered the school for 20 minutes, searching for Olivia. I was embarrassed when the principal delivered her to me from the lower playground even later. There was only one solution after our mutual blame game with one another: we needed a family calendar.

Olivia claimed the pink marker. I got the red. Harrison was happy with the blue, and the black was for “all members”. Before we knew it, the calendar looked like the brainstorming board of a mad scientist. And there was a lot more red than I expected. In fact, the calendar was predominantly crimson.

Standing back, fingers on my chin, I pondered what lay ahead for me. I was going to be on the road a lot in the next few months.

“I’m not sure about this,” I mumbled at Harrison. “Maybe I should skip Boston. Or Chicago – I could postpone that interview.”

“Mom,” Harrison answered. “How long did it take you to write The New Jew?”
“About three years.”
“And you’re published.”
“Yes, I am.”
“That’s a big deal.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Well, then. Don’t you think you ought to get behind it?”

He was right. It had been eating away at me – I desperately wanted to make my book a priority. By the end of the day I felt a wash of relief when I decided to take a break from graduate school to make room for my passion.

My daughter had given me a wake up call. Our calendar displayed the facts. And my son gave me perspective. That’s what can happen when a Mom Mess Up is put to good use.

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