Before
I had kids, I used to judge moms. I was particularly judgmental of
moms that were scatter-brained. I used to volunteer in our church
library, and a woman would come in every Sunday with her four young
kids. She had more late fees than anyone in the church and I thought
– doesn't this bother her? Why can't she just get her act together
and find the books on Saturday night? Can't she hang a book bag on
the front door where library books are supposed to go when the kids
are done with them?
Not
to worry, I was quickly initiated into the Scatter-Brained Mommies
Club when we adopted our first son. I'm convinced that when you
become a mother, part of your brain is sloughed off and comes out of
your pores when you sweat. I would have said “comes out your uterus
along with your baby,” but like I said, my son was adopted, so I
can't use that excuse.
Sometimes
I'll need to correct my children or answer their questions quickly
and I stutter out words that don't make sense to anyone. “I
said...don't...I don't...don't question me...because I said so!” I
fear that my kids will eventually believe me to be an idiot and rise
up and mutiny against me one day while my husband's at work.
As
a member of the Scatter-Brained Mommies Club I forget most
everything and require some form of memory-aid. My mother-in-law
suggested I write out a to do list. Brilliant idea! Except that as
I'm writing my to do list my younger son screams. I run up the
stairs to investigate the scene. I take care of the “boo-boo”
with feigned consoling and Chewbacca band-aids and head back to my to
do list only to find it's not where I left it.
Hmm.
I
set out on a quest to find the missing to do list. As I'm searching,
I'm distracted by my older son wanting me to uncoil his slinky.
Sometimes I think these are my sole
purposes in life – to kiss boo-boos and uncoil slinkys. While
I'm uncoiling the slinky, I notice that the carpet is dirty and I
need to vacuum it. I go to get the vacuum and pull it out from behind
the office door. I notice that I left my coffee sitting, half drunk,
on the desk. I pick it up, excited that there is still caffeine in my
possession, and head to the microwave to nuke it. I start the
microwave and wonder what I was doing. I go to look at my to do list
and remember that I lost it, so I begin my quest again.
I
walk up the stairs and notice the bathroom light is on. I reach in to
turn it off and notice my to do list on the side of the sink – wet.
At least I found it - even though most of the words are now
illegible. As I take it back down to the kitchen to re-scribble the
words before they are completely gone, I see the vacuum and remember
the floor. I lug the vacuum down to the kitchen, even though I'm
cleaning the carpet upstairs.
This will be an obvious reminder to me to vacuum.
I
recopy my to do list on fresh, dry paper and put it on the
refrigerator where I will never
lose it. I lug the vacuum back upstairs, and as I'm vacuuming I
decide to vacuum the entire house, including under the couch
cushions. Hey! That's where that library book went. But crap - now I
have to crawl back to the librarian on my hands and knees telling her
that I did indeed have the book even though I was very adamant that
the book was NOT in my house. Or I could just keep it. Or donate it
to Goodwill so I don't feel so guilty about the little
white
lie.
Eventually, I decide I'll swallow my pride and take the stupid
book back. Tomorrow. Maybe I'll just slide it in the
overnight drawer.
I
put the vacuum back and realize I need to start dinner. First, I
check on the kids because they've been awfully quiet for such an
extended period of time. To my surprise they're both alive and not
drinking poison or playing with matches. I smile. I go to the kitchen
and get chicken out of the freezer. I forgot to thaw it. It wasn't on
my list! I open the microwave to defrost it, only to find my
half-drunk cup of coffee. I take the mug in my hand, walk over to my
to do list (still on the fridge) and under “buy wart remover” I
write “drink coffee,” and then cross it off as I take a cold sip.
