TheWRITEaddiction.com

I’m attached to my Franklin Covey planner.  In high school and college, it replaced my purse.   Now that I’m a mother, I just throw it in my mom bag, along with the diapers, a change of clothes, five ink pens, a snack for the kids, my portfolio, my book, my cell phone, and my lip gloss.  (That’s really just a sneak peak of all the stuff you’d actually find in my bag, but none are as important to me as the planner.)

My life is in that planner.  I write down everything I’m supposed to do on a daily basis.  Once in high school, some classmates got hold of my planner.  They made fun of me for writing down the mundane tasks of the day (i.e. brush teeth, wash face, make bed).  But the truth of the matter was, that if I didn’t write those things down, I might not do them. (That’s only a slight exaggeration).  Sometimes, I’m a whirlwind of activity, and my checklist goes all the way down the page.  I zip from one end of town to the other, and still manage to get some kind of dinner on the table.  I’m pretty proud of myself on days like that.

But there are some days, when it takes all my strength just to breathe in and out. On those days, I look at my planner and I can barely see the tasks on my list through my weary and teary eyes.  But I pull myself from the couch.  Clean myself up, and I breathe in… pick up a few toys off the floor, manage to get some kind of dinner on the table.  (The kids can’t feed themselves)… and I breathe out.

Sure, I have big goals.  I want to be published in Essence.  I want Oprah to read my book, but that’s not at all how I define success.

Every day I am successful, as I do something to prepare me for tomorrow, even if the only thing I do is manage to make it through today.

Mama Radford