Posted by on Mar 4, 2011 in new mom, organized, to do list | 5 comments

Pre-Ryan, I was very organized. Almost to a fault. My planner was full of meeting dates, deadlines, birthday and anniversary reminders, account information (written in code, of course), and a spreadsheet of which bills are due when.

A friend once told me I am “like, prepared for life.” I took that as a compliment.

Then I had a kid.

And I no longer care.

In fact, it’s March, and I have yet to write a single birthday down in my planner. This almost guarantees that I will forget one this year.

I have so much stuff swirling around in my head that I need to get done. Gifts to buy, gifts to make, get-togethers to prepare for, financial stuff to handle, appointments to set up. I have to run here, I have to pick up this, I have to order that. And it all needs to be done before I blow out of town in a mere couple of weeks.

I know I have to get the bulk of it done this weekend. I also know it’s not going to happen.

Why? Because I have a packed weekend. Absolutely packed.

It’s packed with a date night tonight. (It’s been six years since the first date with the love of my life, and this year, I feel like celebrating that.) It’s packed with a spring training game tomorrow. (Ryan’s first!) It’s packed with a potluck lunch with some awesome friends.

Pre-baby me might have said, “We can’t go to the spring training game. We have too much to do. We have to go grocery shopping, for god’s sake.”

Post-baby me doesn’t care. Post-baby me thinks it’s funny.

I don’t want my son to remember how productive we were on the weekends. I want him to remember how fun weekends were. How we dropped everything (nutrition included) so that we could spread out a blanket in the warm sun, devour hot dogs and ice cream, and listen to the crack of bat hitting ball.

“Hang out and play with my interactive zoo toy: check!”

I want him to see how “Buy gift for so-and-so” goes to the top of the list and everything else gets swept to the bottom.

Part of me thinks I need to get my act together a little bit. Another part of me is enjoying that a little guy who squeals and grunts and tries to roll himself over has diverted my attention away from the mundane details of life.

I really do need to write those birthdays down, though.