My mother was a scatter brain. Honestly, I don't think any of my siblings or myself can count the times we've been forgotten at ballet or wherever we were. My aunt would regularly give me a dime to keep in my ballet bag so I'd be able to call her to have her come pick me up (yep, I had the BEST aunt EVER!). My Mom would be in the middle of something and then totally forget what she was doing. She'd go to the grocery store and come back without the one thing she needed there . . .
I have to say that I thought she was disabled. I mean, who could forget THEIR OWN CHILD? Right. There were only eight of us! And two or three were pretty much already gone! And how can you go grocery shopping and forget the dish washing detergent? It's the REASON you went! Yep, I was sort of punky and if you know my mom, well, she just listened to me tell her a thing or two and said she was sorry (sometimes she cried) and I thought, Oh, man, Mom, when I grow up, I am going to have my crap together. You see.
And then, well, she'd smile at me and say, I think I will see . . .
And here we are . . . 25 years later, even younger and with less kids than her, and um, well, let's just say that Phoebe is VERY glad to have her license so she's not depended on us anymore . . . and we won't talk about the rest of them. I have actually cut down to the kids having only one activity because I can't keep track! And I only have 4 right now . . .
And don't even get me started on grocery shopping. How is it that I can't remember milk? I mean, that's why I went, right, and I need it super badly. You'd think it would STICK in my brain. But no, it's gone. I come home and whatever it is, the ONE thing I had to get, isn't there. And it happens, to be honestly . . . nope, I can't . . . it's too shameful, but lets just say that it happens A LOT.
And not only do I forget what I'm doing while I'm doing it, I forget big things. Even though I have a phone attached at my hip with all sorts of alarms and alerts, I still forget important things . . . lunches with friends, appointments, meetings . . . I'm telling you, my mom's HUGE desk top calendar that was FILLED with everything that needed to be done every day of the year, it was actually brilliant. I might be bringing it back because EVERYONE knew where everyone was all the time and what was happening because all you had to do was walk into the kitchen where it was hanging in all it's glory and see what was going on. My phone calendar (as you all know) fails me constantly. That handwritten behemoth calendar never did (well, except when you didn't LOOK AT IT).
Old school. Maybe I just need to go back to old school style.
Bless my mother's heart.
How on earth did she keep her crap so together? She had eight kids that she HOMESCHOOLED (loosely--we will talk about that at a later date--but still, she had them HOME), she saved our local library by running all sorts of committees, she was Relief Society President and then Stake Relief Society President, she was President of Connecticut Homeschoolers Association, and helped get a law passed so that homeschoolers could homeschool . . . all while she was raising us kids.
What?
Yes, she did forget us regularly, but at least she had an excuse. I mean, the one time I REALLY had enough (and this is an example of what a good mama she was that I felt safe enough to do this) after my aunt picked me up from ballet late. I told my aunt to take me to the junior high where my mom was organizing a Regional Homeschooling Convention (I think the whole east coast was invited) and she was in charge of it. I marched through those hallways filled with righteous indignation and found her surrounded by her posse of women and I yelled and I mean yelled at her at the top of my lungs that all this crap she was doing meant nothing if she forgot her own daughter at ballet. Then I spun around and went home (how I got home is fuzzy--I wonder if I walked?) full of rage and hurt.
Hells Bells. I can still see my mama's face. She turned and saw me coming and smiled at me and then when I started yelling, I saw her crumble, right there in front of me.
Oh, Mama, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
Especially now, when I'm like half the woman you were and I make ten times the mistakes. Oops, I guess I shouldn't have been so hasty, eh, in telling you I'd have my crap together?
Sorry . . . (cringe) I guess I didn't quite understand what it was like . . . and now I do and I'm worse! I'm so much worse! And I haven't saved anything . . .
Hells bells. Does life always have to have it's little joke on you?
Well, I'm starting to be wise to this. Just yesterday I was thinking about something that hurt my feelings when I was younger with my in-laws and I thought, Oh, when my kids get married and grown up, I will NEVER do . . .
Wait! Hold that thought! I'm just kidding . . . I'm sure I'll do that and MORE and I'm sorry in advance! Please, please don't hear that Universe. I'm not thinking here. I'm only kidding.
And isn't that the kicker? That really, all sorts of cranky thoughts we have of, Well, if they'd just parent their children better . . . like we do, then it would all be better; Or if only they knew how to hold down a job, they wouldn't have these financial troubles; If they just put their appointments in their phones (they're attached to them!), then they wouldn't forget! And so on and so forth--that's all just us being pretty blind, right, to the deeper stuff going on? And we know NOTHING of what is going on most of the time.
Oh heavens, I'm so stinking good at passing judgements (straight A student here!) on other people, that I honestly don't see my own little (possibly huge) failings. I LOVE that Jesus moment where He's like, Yeah, you are focusing on the little mote (I'm guessing that's like a tiny morning sleepy) in your neighbors eye, you can't see that massive beam sticking out of you own eye. Look, people, look at yourself before you go and get all huffy.
Well, I guess that beam I have in my eye about my mama, well, I'm starting to see it or rather, see where it's made me a wee (lot) blind. Drat. I hate being blind/wrong/an idiot.
But at the same time, after the shame wears off, it feels kind of good too. It makes me think, well, maybe some day my kids will think, she's doing the best she can, our mama, and it wasn't so bad. It gives me . . . hope.
And . .. as for that other stuff we mamas suffer from, here's my solution: Write on your hand in permanent marker MILK or EGGS when you go to the gorcery store. It's the BEST way to remember those certain items. Pretend that you meant to go into the pantry to think . . . you didn't really mean to go in there and get something. You just needed a moment. And tell your kids when you forget them, well, you were building their character. I mean, when the Apocalypse comes, they'll know how to deal with stress and figure out how to get home the best possible way--you're giving them great solution solving techniques. See, YOU MEANT to do it.
I'm holding to these rules. I'm not scatter brained. I'm a creative thinker who likes semi-perminent tattoos of food items on her limbs and knows how to make her children problem solvers.
Yeah. That's me. Creative Problem Solving Parenting. Not so bad at all.
I have to say that I thought she was disabled. I mean, who could forget THEIR OWN CHILD? Right. There were only eight of us! And two or three were pretty much already gone! And how can you go grocery shopping and forget the dish washing detergent? It's the REASON you went! Yep, I was sort of punky and if you know my mom, well, she just listened to me tell her a thing or two and said she was sorry (sometimes she cried) and I thought, Oh, man, Mom, when I grow up, I am going to have my crap together. You see.
And then, well, she'd smile at me and say, I think I will see . . .
And here we are . . . 25 years later, even younger and with less kids than her, and um, well, let's just say that Phoebe is VERY glad to have her license so she's not depended on us anymore . . . and we won't talk about the rest of them. I have actually cut down to the kids having only one activity because I can't keep track! And I only have 4 right now . . .
And don't even get me started on grocery shopping. How is it that I can't remember milk? I mean, that's why I went, right, and I need it super badly. You'd think it would STICK in my brain. But no, it's gone. I come home and whatever it is, the ONE thing I had to get, isn't there. And it happens, to be honestly . . . nope, I can't . . . it's too shameful, but lets just say that it happens A LOT.
And not only do I forget what I'm doing while I'm doing it, I forget big things. Even though I have a phone attached at my hip with all sorts of alarms and alerts, I still forget important things . . . lunches with friends, appointments, meetings . . . I'm telling you, my mom's HUGE desk top calendar that was FILLED with everything that needed to be done every day of the year, it was actually brilliant. I might be bringing it back because EVERYONE knew where everyone was all the time and what was happening because all you had to do was walk into the kitchen where it was hanging in all it's glory and see what was going on. My phone calendar (as you all know) fails me constantly. That handwritten behemoth calendar never did (well, except when you didn't LOOK AT IT).
Old school. Maybe I just need to go back to old school style.
Bless my mother's heart.
How on earth did she keep her crap so together? She had eight kids that she HOMESCHOOLED (loosely--we will talk about that at a later date--but still, she had them HOME), she saved our local library by running all sorts of committees, she was Relief Society President and then Stake Relief Society President, she was President of Connecticut Homeschoolers Association, and helped get a law passed so that homeschoolers could homeschool . . . all while she was raising us kids.
What?
Yes, she did forget us regularly, but at least she had an excuse. I mean, the one time I REALLY had enough (and this is an example of what a good mama she was that I felt safe enough to do this) after my aunt picked me up from ballet late. I told my aunt to take me to the junior high where my mom was organizing a Regional Homeschooling Convention (I think the whole east coast was invited) and she was in charge of it. I marched through those hallways filled with righteous indignation and found her surrounded by her posse of women and I yelled and I mean yelled at her at the top of my lungs that all this crap she was doing meant nothing if she forgot her own daughter at ballet. Then I spun around and went home (how I got home is fuzzy--I wonder if I walked?) full of rage and hurt.
Hells Bells. I can still see my mama's face. She turned and saw me coming and smiled at me and then when I started yelling, I saw her crumble, right there in front of me.
Oh, Mama, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
Especially now, when I'm like half the woman you were and I make ten times the mistakes. Oops, I guess I shouldn't have been so hasty, eh, in telling you I'd have my crap together?
Sorry . . . (cringe) I guess I didn't quite understand what it was like . . . and now I do and I'm worse! I'm so much worse! And I haven't saved anything . . .
Hells bells. Does life always have to have it's little joke on you?
Well, I'm starting to be wise to this. Just yesterday I was thinking about something that hurt my feelings when I was younger with my in-laws and I thought, Oh, when my kids get married and grown up, I will NEVER do . . .
Wait! Hold that thought! I'm just kidding . . . I'm sure I'll do that and MORE and I'm sorry in advance! Please, please don't hear that Universe. I'm not thinking here. I'm only kidding.
And isn't that the kicker? That really, all sorts of cranky thoughts we have of, Well, if they'd just parent their children better . . . like we do, then it would all be better; Or if only they knew how to hold down a job, they wouldn't have these financial troubles; If they just put their appointments in their phones (they're attached to them!), then they wouldn't forget! And so on and so forth--that's all just us being pretty blind, right, to the deeper stuff going on? And we know NOTHING of what is going on most of the time.
Oh heavens, I'm so stinking good at passing judgements (straight A student here!) on other people, that I honestly don't see my own little (possibly huge) failings. I LOVE that Jesus moment where He's like, Yeah, you are focusing on the little mote (I'm guessing that's like a tiny morning sleepy) in your neighbors eye, you can't see that massive beam sticking out of you own eye. Look, people, look at yourself before you go and get all huffy.
Well, I guess that beam I have in my eye about my mama, well, I'm starting to see it or rather, see where it's made me a wee (lot) blind. Drat. I hate being blind/wrong/an idiot.
But at the same time, after the shame wears off, it feels kind of good too. It makes me think, well, maybe some day my kids will think, she's doing the best she can, our mama, and it wasn't so bad. It gives me . . . hope.
And . .. as for that other stuff we mamas suffer from, here's my solution: Write on your hand in permanent marker MILK or EGGS when you go to the gorcery store. It's the BEST way to remember those certain items. Pretend that you meant to go into the pantry to think . . . you didn't really mean to go in there and get something. You just needed a moment. And tell your kids when you forget them, well, you were building their character. I mean, when the Apocalypse comes, they'll know how to deal with stress and figure out how to get home the best possible way--you're giving them great solution solving techniques. See, YOU MEANT to do it.
I'm holding to these rules. I'm not scatter brained. I'm a creative thinker who likes semi-perminent tattoos of food items on her limbs and knows how to make her children problem solvers.
Yeah. That's me. Creative Problem Solving Parenting. Not so bad at all.
Oh you made me laugh. Love you!
ReplyDeleteSo many wonderful things in this to respond to. Love it all, Mary. I did want to say that because of my own weekly grocery mishaps, I finally made a huge master list with everything we always or sometimes get to go along with my meal plan. Then each week I cross off what we don't need and write in anything unusual that we do need. It sounds like a good idea, especially because I see all the things on the list and they remind me of what we regularly need. HOWEVER, I found after a few weeks that I had forgotten to put milk and eggs on the list. So dumb. They're on the list now. But Curtis and I have decided that each week there will always be at least one thing that you needed that you will forget. I still want to rant about it and about having to go back to the store or do without, but it's honestly not fair. We both forget and I am ashamed of how often I take my frustration out on Curtis. I do hope I'll be able to mellow out and get better at taking care of my own "beams."
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