I am so not getting a fire truck calendar this year

Max and I got home from the pediatrician's office at 9:00 last night. His check-up had been scheduled for 7:15, and we ended up waiting for a good hour before the doctor saw him, then waited once again as they prepped a couple of vaccinations. I'd zoomed home from work to get him there and I hadn't eaten dinner. After I got him and Ben to bed, I nuked a frozen meal and wandered around the kitchen. My eyes fell on our wall calendar. And I thought:

I AM SO NOT GETTING A FIRE TRUCK CALENDAR THIS YEAR. 

Ever since 2015, we have had a Fire Trucks in Action calendar hanging in our kitchen, where we write in plans and then neglect to pay any attention to them. I've bought them for Max, of course, who aspires to be a firefighter. For the record, I have the highest respect for firefighters; there aren't enough nice things to say about the ones Max has befriended who go out of their way to make him happy, which recently happened once again. But as I stood there staring at December—a home with flames bursting out of the second story and sending black smoke into the sky—I decided I'd had it with scenes of devastation as kitchen decor. 

I mean, look.

I still remember how excited I was to get Max the first fire truck calendar (and, not for nothing, how the googling kept bringing up pics of half-naked-fireman calendars). It is always a thrill to give your kids treats that you know will delight them. But then, it is even more of a thrill to put your own needs first, for once.

While I will surely continue to forgo meals, nights out with friends, leisure shopping, workouts, bathroom privacy and basically everything in upcoming years for the sake of my lovely children, I decided to get my own wall calendar for the kitchen. To be hung with pride on the fabric bulletin board I'd made several years ago, in a rare spurt of crafting. I might consider a fire truck calendar for his bedroom, if Max wants it there or at all—but the kitchen is mine, mine, mine. 

I wanted purty flowers. Or lovely herbs, perhaps. Or hot air balloons. Or Ansel Adams scenes. I started Googling. I was tempted by a Chocolate calendar. I was not tempted by a Pusheen the Cat calendar or the one with the subline "Get Your Sh*t Together This Year." Mom's Family Calendar? NO. America's National Parks? A contender. I wondered what was wrong with me for not wanting Kittens & Puppies (on eco-friendly paper, no less).

This one made me smile.

It was Camper Vans that finally captivated me. One of my pipe dreams is to rent a fancy RV and do a family tour of the country, or part of it. I am not sure that's happening anytime soon, or that our family would actually survive such a trip given that three-hour car rides feel like running an Ironman triathlon. But for the next 12 months, I will be staring at fun, happy pictures of retro vans. And Max and everyone else is just going to have to deal.