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Tuesday, December 27, 2011

I consider myself a smart woman...

Tonight, I spent a few minutes trying to figure out where I put the box of mac and cheese? I took it from the shelf I then, within 30 seconds it disappeared.  What the hell happened to my mind?  Honestly, I blame the joy of motherhood.  Little by little it seems to have sapped some of my intelligence and sanity.  At work (the other job that I have), I am actually using flashcards to learn new financial acronyms and phrases. Jesus..Laurel is learning how to read with flashcards!  My recent mush brain reminded me of an essay that I wrote (again when Laurel was 18 months) called, "I consider myself a smart woman." Enjoy.

I consider myself a smart woman.  I like to read.  I am up on current events.  I try to challenge myself daily at work.  I consider myself a whiz using the copy machine and I figured out DVR on my own.  But becoming a mother has questioned my intellect in two areas:  common sense and the ability to remember small details. I would see women who were in a constant flurry of doubt and disarray.   With disdain (the same disdain I would use when I saw a small child boarding an airplane), I would wonder, Good Lord, how did they get that way? Well, payback is a bitch.  Now, shamefully and apologetically, I am one of those women and I am just trying to make it through the day.


Before I was pregnant, I could remember everything-trivial, work related or otherwise.  I was a master at knowing things like “who won the Academy Award for Best Picture in 1994?”  I could name that tune in a sec.  Now, no one would want me on their Trivial Pursuit team. Details, small or large, totally escape my memory.  I forget where I parked my car.  I forget to make an 18 month pediatrician visit for Laurel which resulted in a total mea culpa and they managed to squeeze her in.  I go upstairs in my house and forget why I went upstairs, even if I still am holding the laundry basket.

When I was a girl, I remember stapling notes on my mom’s book bag. She was teacher, hence the bookbag, and I would ask her if she could stop at CVS and pick up something like a notebook, colored pencils, etc. that I needed for school.  Very frequently she would say yes, but if I wanted her to remember the request I would have to staple a big bright note, that said, REMEMBER JUDE’S NOTEBOOK, on her book bag.  I thought it was quirky but it worked.  I just couldn’t understand how she didn’t remember.  This was back in the early 80’s.  We didn’t have post-its back then—that is what I use today.

I have to be incredibly list driven.  My daughter goes to bed at 7:45.  I usually like to wind down or go straight to bed by 9:00.  That means that I have 75 minutes to get ready for the next day.  I start the 75 minutes by making a list.  If I don’t, the task won’t be remembered therefore won’t get done.  I cannot take a fleeting thought for granted.  One random Thursday night, after the bath water drained out of the tub, Laurel, who likes to sit in the tub, regardless of water, pees in the tub.  So I get her out, cleaned up, dressed, and ready for bed.  Right before I put her to bed, I sprinkle a boat load of Comet in the tub thinking I am going to go back and scrub it.  I put her to bed but forget about the tub even though I am putting things away in the same bathroom.  You would think the smell of Comet would have been a clue but, no.  I didn’t remember the tub until we got home from a weekend trip.  Now Sunday night, I am scrubbing dried pee and a Comet paste out of the tub.

I am not going to remember your birthday or remember to send in your wedding RSVP.  Thankfully my wedding anniversary is engraved into my wedding band and a major holiday.  I save the little memory I have for anything to do with Laurel and PIN numbers.  This may sound cruel but Ching has to fend for himself.

I don’t know if making Laurel sucked the memory right out of me or what.  The baby effort seemed to suck my common sense out too.  I doubt myself a lot more than I did pre-Laurel.  Daily, I have some sort of humbling experience while I asked myself either “Should I have known or noticed that?” or “Why didn’t I know that.”? 

Illnesses are a key contributor to these questions.  I had conjunctivitis a few time growing up.  I know what it looks like.  Why then, did I not notice that my daughter’s eyes were gunky for a whole weekend, take her to daycare on Monday to be told (gently) that my daughter shouldn’t be there because she has pink eye?  Sometimes I don’t notice that she is warm, therefore have a fever.  Once I thought she just had a lingering congestive cough but in actuality, pneumonia.

While pregnant, I would ask other mothers, how will I know what to do?  They would tell me that I would just know.  There was no mention of how many tries it took before I would “know”.  I am not good at live and learn.  I want to know it right away and be very good at it.  I also think that Laurel would appreciate that. I don’t think she came into this world with aspirations of being a guinea pig. There is no amount of intellect that will prepare you for a 2 am crying jag—could be you or your child.  The common thought is that your child is at the mercy of good parenting.  But honestly, sometimes I feel like I am at the mercy of her.

Little by little, I am learning not to get behind the 8-ball.  Last year, the nanny had to tell me that Laurel needed mittens.  This year, she will have mittens by September 1 regardless of an Indian summer. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this last year.  I was using my gloves..why didn’t she have any?  (I’ll fess up.  She didn’t have a hat either.)


Small steps...

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