The Quiet Revolution of Planning Ahead

If you want to stop a group of women in their tracks, casually reveal that you recently bought a 10-year planner. I was unprepared for the reaction that followed. 

I was at the annual fundraiser for Friends of the Anacortes Community Forest Lands with a group of moms I was connected to through the friendships of our school-age children. The atmosphere was warm, playful and forest-y. We had chosen to dress up as a group of “Log Ladies,” a nod to the 1980s character from the show “Twin Peaks.” 

We were waiting for the dinner buffet to open up, getting to know each other better. These women were engaging, clever and full of commentary. I was excited to hear from my fellow moms about their plans for the next 10 years. Travel to a bucket-list location? A trip with a special friend? Plans to pursue a new hobby? 

“Oh god,” said one of my tablemates with a look of distress. “I’m not even sure I’m doing what I want to be doing right now.” She was referencing her current job, which she had just been describing in pretty glowing terms. 

Clearly, my excitement about being intentional and looking forward was not spreading around the table. 

The impetus 

Earlier that spring I had rocked my own right-now moment, moving out of our family home and ending a 27-year relationship that had exceeded its expiration date. I was making serious changes and I wanted my next 10 years to be better than my last. 

Though I had a full-time job, I definitely played the caregiver role in our family. After the kids were born, gone were the days of 10-mile hikes in the mountains and overnight paddle trips. I spent evenings and weekends largely at home, cleaning, organizing and trying to prepare for the coming week. When the kids stayed home all weekend too, it felt like fighting the tide. No matter how hard I worked, the house looked the same Sunday night as it did on Friday afternoon. 

I could choose to put something on these pages, or I could let them be filled with items that arrived in my inbox and other people’s priorities. This was the opportunity to design the life I wanted.

So my spouse “helped,” by taking the kids out of the house. An all-day trip to the children’s museum. Overnight camping on the lake. That made it easier to straighten up and catch-up on sleep. But it made it harder to know why I was doing any of this in the first place. Dad modeled adventure and fun. Mom modeled —cleaning? Really? 

The wake-up call hit home when my husband informed me of a major international trip he was taking via a Gmail calendar notification. He was departing in less than a week, had said nothing, and was seemingly flitting off less than 12 hours after my high-stakes work event I had been grinding towards all year. I had no time prior to his departure to plan logistics for the kids, pets, babysitter, sports schedules, etc. 

After the disbelief and rage subsided — he had told the neighbors, his parents and extended family about the trip, but not me — I told him I was not covering for him. He ended up cancelling the trip, but I had caught the spark. If I didn’t get something that I really wanted to do on my own calendar, I would forever stay in the loop of keeping up one week at a time between now and the kids’ graduations. 

I got on Amazon to order a planner. 

The search begins 

I was surprised to discover planning many years ahead is not something most Americans are trying to do, at least not on paper. From the most common companies that print planners, a 2 -year timeframe seemed to be the readily available maximum. (No wonder we are struggling to solve climate change.) Amazon had some obscure options that I hemmed and hawed over. Wasting precious time on this search seemed to be a test from the universe: Just go for it, already! I pulled the trigger. 

On Sept. 26 my planner arrived in the mail. In my hands, I held the remaining time I had at home with both my children before they fledged the nest, my last decade before becoming a senior citizen, my last best ten years; it was about an inch thick. I could choose to put something on these pages, or I could let them be filled with items that arrived in my inbox and other people’s priorities. This was the opportunity to design the life I wanted. 

Taking the leap 

I was raised by a strong woman who was undoubtedly in charge of our household, but I did not hear her talk about her dreams and lay out plans to get there. I want my kids to see me as someone who is inspired, who has plans for herself. I want them to watch me work towards those dreams, failing and succeeding in measures. I don’t want them to see me staying home, keeping up, while other people have the adventures. 

I want to go back to that dinner and ask those women more questions. Why is it so scary to think about the future? Why can’t we see more for ourselves than keeping up? Why do we let other people write on the pages of our lives?