I had to share this very real story because it’s bothering me so darn much. And some of you might just understand. Maybe not. Maybe I’m just off my rocker.
My fourteen-year-old daughter has wanted, forever, to see Wicked. I do, too. So, for our main Christmas gift to our kids this year, my husband and I decided to buy tickets for the four of us to see Wicked in San Francisco. I was so excited that we’d given a special, memorable gift.
When I purchased the tickets (which are, of course, non-refundable) I was super, extra, magnificently careful in choosing the date. I checked my calendar THREE times to make sure that I was choosing a date that would work for all of us. I thought it through carefully, I ruminated, I checked everyone ELSE’S schedule. In short, I tried hard to get this one right.
On Christmas Day, my daughter had to tell me that, in fact, she’ll be out of town on a long-planned trip with her Youth in Government group on that day. A trip she must attend. A trip I knew about!
I screwed up. Terribly. The date of her important trip had somehow not made it onto my calendar.
Cue the tears. (Mine, not my daughter’s. She took this in stride.) Cue the wailing and gnashing of teeth. (Proverbial, thank God.)
Here’s my issue. For most people, this is just a mistake. You fix it (which I’ve done—we’re taking our daughter to the show on a later date and my sister will take her ticket this time) and you move on.
Not me. Oh, no. This has bothered me for days. I can’t seem to leave it alone. I keep asking myself how could I this mistake?
I’ve thought about why this is needling me:
Is it because nothing can just be a “mistake” and has to, instead, be the first small symptoms of very, very early onset Alzheimer’s or a brain tumor? Is the next step me wandering around my neighborhood because I’ve forgotten where I live? Maybe. Probably. And I’m not being flip about this. These are very real fears I harbor.
Or is it because I want so much not to screw this stuff up for my family? That I am so “Type A” all the time and they put up with it so much and the one thing I can do for them in return is just get things like this right? Yes, that’s why. I want to be perfect. Not for me, but for them. I want them to be able to count on me.
I screwed up. And I need to move on, but can’t seem to do that yet.