I was making a meal plan last night. I make meal plans for one month at a time. We are approaching July (how that is possible, I don't know) so it was time to plan all of our meals for the new month. It isn't so much a matter of just sitting down and plopping down random meals on whatever day is next. Maybe at first, that was the way I operated. But no more. Now I sit with the grocery fliers (for both stores), a monthly chart accompanied by 4 or 5 corresponding weekly charts, my recipe book, and our calendar/schedule. There are so many things to consider: what meetings we have scheduled, what time we will be home each evening, days I work, days I am at home, how many leftovers each dish will or will not induce, how expensive are the ingredients, how balanced is the week in terms of veggies/meats/breads/etc., what meals did Hubby ask me to never make again. It actually takes almost an hour to plan one month. Why do I do this, you ask. Well, because I wouldn't cook if I relied on the "what sounds good tonight" battle plan.
What I am getting to is this: as stated, such planning requires careful attention paid to our calendar. We have one of these nifty empty-space-for-your-photos calendars. Each month I am supposed to slip in a new picture for us to enjoy. I've been frustrated with it many times because I only order pictures but once every 3 or 6 months. By that time, I am quite a ways behind in my photo slots on the calendar. So each month I stare at this empty spot above the dates, appointments, meetings and birthdays with a sort of...annoyance. Now, this calendar could be considered a complete and utter failure if I didn't actually go and put photos in each photo slot. Because I am the odd duck that I am, I take this calendar down every 3 or 6 months and fill the past months with pictures of what Reagan looked like that month.
Last night, after my meal planning was finished, I started flipping back over the past 6 months (June has no photo in place yet). I laughed. Hubby, wanting to know what was so funny, leaned over from the chair. He laughed. January. Here was a picture of tiny Reagan, looking so sweet and soft and fuzzy and tiny, smiling gently into the camera while she relaxed quietly in the swing. Just that evening she had nearly tipped over that same swing in her efforts to actually ingest portions of it. February. Here was a picture of little Reagan in a tiny outfit grasping tightly, for the first time, a toy. This toy is the same one we dodge whenever we are holding her because she swings it with such force it could conceivably leave a large welt. March. Here was a picture of little Reagan peeking at me from underneath her play gym. This past weekend she managed to collapse said play gym on top of herself, climb on top of it, and look up at me to brag her accomplishments.
I could go on, but you get the idea. How times change. And how quickly. I wouldn't have believed you about 5 months ago, but I'm starting to see how the time has gone (and will go) so quickly.