You'd think I was seriously suffering from ADHD the way I'm prone to lose track of time. Little things (oh! a butterfly!) often distract my attention and before you know it, I'm late.
Here is a short victim list of the things I often forget about - or at least remember perhaps a little later than I'd like.
Take Abbie to school.
When it's not fifty below outside and I remember to get everyone ready around 7:30, we walk to school. More often than not, though, I glance at the clock and find that it is actually 7:40-7:45, nobody has their shoes on, etc., and we need to bust a move...now.
If you have children, you'll understand that this concept of "now" doesn't always compute. Abbie, poor thing, had a break down the other day. I was so angry until I realized that I've reacted by throwing a fit before when my system was overloaded and I wasn't prepared.
Every day after school we look at her papers which sometimes include little announcements. Last Friday, however, her cousin was having a birthday party and we only had time to get home, get her dressed in her princess attire, and then split. No looking at the papers, that's right. Saturday and Sunday pass and I don't look at the papers.
I say it's Abbie's fault.
Anyway, Monday morning rolls around and I have her stick her snack in her bag (I remembered!!) and she pulls out this red piece of paper with a list of themed days for the week. Monday was Pajama day.
Oh if I'd only known.
Mind you, it's 7:40 and Abbie isn't so sure about this PJ day. Totally goes against the grain, right? Who wears PJs outside of the house (except for that one time. Abbie thought that was pretty cool, though).
She's had a rough morning to begin with, and now I'm pressuring her. She wants to wear something atrocious to school (holes, unmatching), and while I'm rather liberal with the kid in letting her dress as she likes, sometimes you have to draw a line. I do need to teach her how to match and look nice, too.
System meltdown.
...what point was I trying to get at again?
Oy.
Eat Breakfast
You know, sometimes I don't "forget" to eat, I just don't want to put forth the effort after making breakfast for three little ones. Sometimes after dropping off Abbie, I race to get errands done because if not now, never, and before you know it, it's ten o'clock and I haven't eaten yet.
Pick up Abbie
Again. I've only forgotten - er, lost track of time - once, but the boys and I were in that van so fast. No shoes, nothing. Just jump in and drive like Cruella DeVille around the block. Her teacher sat beside her, chatting away with another teacher while Abbie sat beside another neglected, forgotten schoolmate.
Abbie didn't say anything or cry about me forgetting about her when we pulled up. Gigantic smile, arms wide open - totally forgiven, if she even suspected I'd committed a horrific crime that only proves parents don't really care. Come the teen years, she'll undoubtedly remember this one occasion (and I do leave room for the real possibility of more) so she can guilt trip me to death about how neglected she is. I'm just doing my part in fueling future teen angst.
But for this first offense, there was no crying. She looked perfect, acted totally normal. Then I went and opened my big mouth and gasped to her teacher "I'm so sorry I'm late. I lost track of time - thank you so much for waiting with her."
Her teacher was awesome about it, but Abbie picked up on her cue right away.
"How come you're late? Mommy, I was waiting so long."
"Oy."
Remember to do homework with Abbie.
When we get home, for some reason I am completely spent. I feed the mouths and plop down in front of the computer. More often than not, my brain just feels full to overflowing and I just.want.peace.
So I put off homework. Sometimes I put it off thinking we'll do it before Abbie goes to bed, but after the boys do. They like to help.
Abbie's nagging comes in rather handy here, though. She won't let me forget. I know, I'm a horrible parent and she's beyond her years in maturity, but oh well. Being the master manipulator that she is (and she is), she discovered quickly that if we happen to not do homework during the day, she can get out of bed and remind me. Guilt strikes, and we go over her flashcards right away.
Now she gets out of bed even if we've already done her flashcards.
Eh - kid's gotta try.
Baths.
I'm horrible about baths. I don't want to do it, mostly because I'm still doing the majority of them. Eric's very busy and he does help when he can, but it's still rather a rarity.
Here is a short victim list of the things I often forget about - or at least remember perhaps a little later than I'd like.
Take Abbie to school.
When it's not fifty below outside and I remember to get everyone ready around 7:30, we walk to school. More often than not, though, I glance at the clock and find that it is actually 7:40-7:45, nobody has their shoes on, etc., and we need to bust a move...now.
If you have children, you'll understand that this concept of "now" doesn't always compute. Abbie, poor thing, had a break down the other day. I was so angry until I realized that I've reacted by throwing a fit before when my system was overloaded and I wasn't prepared.
Every day after school we look at her papers which sometimes include little announcements. Last Friday, however, her cousin was having a birthday party and we only had time to get home, get her dressed in her princess attire, and then split. No looking at the papers, that's right. Saturday and Sunday pass and I don't look at the papers.
I say it's Abbie's fault.
Anyway, Monday morning rolls around and I have her stick her snack in her bag (I remembered!!) and she pulls out this red piece of paper with a list of themed days for the week. Monday was Pajama day.
Oh if I'd only known.
Mind you, it's 7:40 and Abbie isn't so sure about this PJ day. Totally goes against the grain, right? Who wears PJs outside of the house (except for that one time. Abbie thought that was pretty cool, though).
She's had a rough morning to begin with, and now I'm pressuring her. She wants to wear something atrocious to school (holes, unmatching), and while I'm rather liberal with the kid in letting her dress as she likes, sometimes you have to draw a line. I do need to teach her how to match and look nice, too.
System meltdown.
...what point was I trying to get at again?
Oy.
Eat Breakfast
You know, sometimes I don't "forget" to eat, I just don't want to put forth the effort after making breakfast for three little ones. Sometimes after dropping off Abbie, I race to get errands done because if not now, never, and before you know it, it's ten o'clock and I haven't eaten yet.
Pick up Abbie
Again. I've only forgotten - er, lost track of time - once, but the boys and I were in that van so fast. No shoes, nothing. Just jump in and drive like Cruella DeVille around the block. Her teacher sat beside her, chatting away with another teacher while Abbie sat beside another neglected, forgotten schoolmate.
Abbie didn't say anything or cry about me forgetting about her when we pulled up. Gigantic smile, arms wide open - totally forgiven, if she even suspected I'd committed a horrific crime that only proves parents don't really care. Come the teen years, she'll undoubtedly remember this one occasion (and I do leave room for the real possibility of more) so she can guilt trip me to death about how neglected she is. I'm just doing my part in fueling future teen angst.
But for this first offense, there was no crying. She looked perfect, acted totally normal. Then I went and opened my big mouth and gasped to her teacher "I'm so sorry I'm late. I lost track of time - thank you so much for waiting with her."
Her teacher was awesome about it, but Abbie picked up on her cue right away.
"How come you're late? Mommy, I was waiting so long."
"Oy."
Remember to do homework with Abbie.
When we get home, for some reason I am completely spent. I feed the mouths and plop down in front of the computer. More often than not, my brain just feels full to overflowing and I just.want.peace.
So I put off homework. Sometimes I put it off thinking we'll do it before Abbie goes to bed, but after the boys do. They like to help.
Abbie's nagging comes in rather handy here, though. She won't let me forget. I know, I'm a horrible parent and she's beyond her years in maturity, but oh well. Being the master manipulator that she is (and she is), she discovered quickly that if we happen to not do homework during the day, she can get out of bed and remind me. Guilt strikes, and we go over her flashcards right away.
Now she gets out of bed even if we've already done her flashcards.
Eh - kid's gotta try.
Baths.
I'm horrible about baths. I don't want to do it, mostly because I'm still doing the majority of them. Eric's very busy and he does help when he can, but it's still rather a rarity.
Most days I just forget.
It's hard to forget, though, when the kids come in caked in mud, or when Joe craps in his underwear *groan*
It's hard to forget, though, when the kids come in caked in mud, or when Joe craps in his underwear *groan*
Sometimes I wonder if they do that on purpose. Wouldn't surprise me. Wouldn't blame them.
They love baths.
Oy.
Dinner.
You mean it's 3:30? What're we going to have for dinner? I made a list of what we could have for dinners this week, but a hell of a lot of good that does me when I throw the damn thing away, right?
Pizza. I was going to make pizza this week...but it's too late to get the dough going.
Maybe we should just hit up Little Ceasars. Yeah.
(Speaking of, did I mention balancing the checkbook? Oh, I can do it. I just can't remember to do jack these days. That's a scary one to forget.)
All of this, day in and day out. I've asked for it by wanting to do things for myself, and in all honesty, probably being a smidge too selfish about it. I have dealt with six years of doing most everything domestic myself, and now that I've added writing to the mix, my brain is protesting.
If you give me one more thing to worry about, think about, I'm going to make you say or do something absolutely ridiculously stupid.
And I often do. In front of family, friends, or just on the Internet. Words spill out without appropriate transitions to make them intelligible - but to me: perfect sense.
People are going to start questioning my intelligence. I can't even spell these days, my fingers have gone dyslexic on me, and remembering to click on the little spellcheck button is apparently beyond my ability.
Baby brain. I swear, baby brain. Blame it on the babies.
In the meantime, I'm going to try to post here at least once a week. With the election and post election stuff going on, and the other blog I've been asked to contribute to (Mormon Democrats), and the fact that I want to write a fiction story and articles and you know, the three monkeys and that man I love more than life itself...I'm at capacity. I'll try, though. My weekends are for my fiction. Maybe I'll share someday - hopefully in published form :)
They love baths.
Oy.
Dinner.
You mean it's 3:30? What're we going to have for dinner? I made a list of what we could have for dinners this week, but a hell of a lot of good that does me when I throw the damn thing away, right?
Pizza. I was going to make pizza this week...but it's too late to get the dough going.
Maybe we should just hit up Little Ceasars. Yeah.
(Speaking of, did I mention balancing the checkbook? Oh, I can do it. I just can't remember to do jack these days. That's a scary one to forget.)
All of this, day in and day out. I've asked for it by wanting to do things for myself, and in all honesty, probably being a smidge too selfish about it. I have dealt with six years of doing most everything domestic myself, and now that I've added writing to the mix, my brain is protesting.
If you give me one more thing to worry about, think about, I'm going to make you say or do something absolutely ridiculously stupid.
And I often do. In front of family, friends, or just on the Internet. Words spill out without appropriate transitions to make them intelligible - but to me: perfect sense.
People are going to start questioning my intelligence. I can't even spell these days, my fingers have gone dyslexic on me, and remembering to click on the little spellcheck button is apparently beyond my ability.
Baby brain. I swear, baby brain. Blame it on the babies.
In the meantime, I'm going to try to post here at least once a week. With the election and post election stuff going on, and the other blog I've been asked to contribute to (Mormon Democrats), and the fact that I want to write a fiction story and articles and you know, the three monkeys and that man I love more than life itself...I'm at capacity. I'll try, though. My weekends are for my fiction. Maybe I'll share someday - hopefully in published form :)
3 comments:
Set an alarm to go off every day a half an hour before you have to go pick up Abbie-then you have thirty minutes to get the boys ready.
Baths? lol Half the time I forget to take my own!! lolol
ha! beat you already! I do set alarms...
the trick is *remembering* to and not distracting myself.
Often I think "five more minutes" or "just lemme get this done" and yeah...before I know it, I'm late.
:)
Hahahaha! Baby brain is definately usable! When your pregnant you just switch it to placenta brain, then nursing brain, then back to baby brain. Works for me!
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