In remembrance of my memory

I had this great idea for a blog post, then I forgot it. Then I remembered it again while playing some word game on the iPad (you know to keep my mind sharp), but I figured there was no way I would forget it again so I continued playing, thinking I would jot down my idea later. By the time I was done with the game (some five minutes later) my mind was blank again. This is the story of my life lately. I have lots of ideas in my brain but remembering those ideas is somewhat of a miraculous feat. So now I have lots of little notepads around the house with words or ideas jotted down, most of them indecipherable within hours.

The other day I went downstairs and completed various tasks, none of which were the original intended reason for going downstairs because I had forgotten what that original intended reason was. So I yelled to the Husband, “Why did I come down here?!” And I can’t remember the answer he gave but it was the correct one.

Sometimes I’ll also have to ask the kids if I gave them their vitamins for the day because by lunchtime I am on auto-pilot and can’t necessarily recall what I have or haven’t done in regards to vitamins. I trust their memory more than my own and this is slightly scary unto me.

Yes it is scary that I rely on them sometimes for memory. It is also scary the things they can remember. For example, every time Bubba stands on the scale in the bathroom, he will exclaim in the most incredulous tone, “WHHAATT!!” And he does this because one time I think he witnessed me doing the same thing.

ONE TIME. Like when he was in utero.

But really all that memory must be cumbersome. Yes? I feel a little bad for their sharp exceptional brains. Because a forgetful brain can be quite useful at times I’ve found. I will always have the great excuse of “I forgot” and I won’t even have to lie about it. And also there have been instances when I was really grateful that I woke up not remembering what day it was. So, there's that.

Just when I thought I'd gouge my eyes out . . .

I finally figured out that the culprit for much of my angst was a pair of contact lenses that needed changing. It’s amazing how blinking less can be such a positive mood changer.

Little things indeed.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m still just as agitated as ever, but now there’s a simultaneous brightness in my eyes along with the scowl. Some might call this a cute handful or a feisty asset. Both seem like a valid description of me currently.

For example, I am still annoyed that the Husband sees a pile of his folded clean clothes on the bed (that I put there) and moves them to a chair instead of hanging them up. But then I remember that he did the dishes last night, so I must call it good, for now.

Then there’s that mystery stain on my shirt that looks like yellow crayon, but then I remember Bosco did tell me I was his favorite so . . . bygones be bygones.

And let’s not forget that Bubba has subjected me to the most heinous of diaper changes (his, not mine) this week, but he did cuddle with me for five whole minutes today without telling me to move, so now I can face one more diaper if need be. Plus he made me the loveliest imaginary sandwich I ever did see and he even remembered to hold the pickles. Can’t let that little nugget of thoughtfulness go unnoticed and unrewarded. He get’s extra ice cream tonight I think.

Then there’s the high probability that I broke my nose while sleeping last night (bad dream I guess) and it hurts to nasally inhale. But who really cares about that when there is cheesecake to be had? Exactly.

And I don’t even really feel the need to address this sore throat I’ve had for a week!

Let’s just hope this euphoria can last a few more days. I’m off to turn thirty-one this weekend. Wish me luck!

I just happen to have a picture of me putting in a contact lens. Is that weird? More like kismet I think.

This weekend I had thoughts

If I told you what I did this weekend, you would probably just yawn and call me a loser because I did NOTHING (beyond the traditional weekly visit to Target of course). And can I just say I’m proud to be a loser. It is fabulous.

After over a week of schlepping suitcases, two strollers, dirty laundry, diapers, two car seats, two children who sit in the car seats, bags of snack food, bags in general, a cranky Husband, important papers that cannot be lost no matter what, the Husband’s fanny pack, and my tired weary body, it was a joyous occasion when I could unload all THAT at various points in our cobwebbed home and just sit there staring off into nothingness (for as long as the kids would allow). Sometimes nothingness is good for the soul, especially when this particular soul has an unhealthy desire to have constant somethingness. Am I the only one who suffers from this?

Anyway, I let myself bask in this soupy state of mind all weekend. It was a little self-indulgent and lazy, I’ll admit, but I also did a lot of thinking. I don’t do that too often as it usually leads to me doing strange things, like starting a personal blog, or that one time I thought about sewing . . . something.

I thought about how great our vacation actually was despite the weariness that has now set up shop in my bones, and possibly my organs.

I thought about how great it was that my sons finally got to meet their great-grandmother, and how Bosco thinks GG’s house is just over yonder.

I thought about how it might be nice not to realize how far away GG actually is, and to have a totally warped sense of the space and time continuum.

I thought about how the next time I pay for a hotel room and find “no-no hairs” all over the bathroom floor, I will not swallow my pride. I will make a fuss. I will listen to that inner me because COME ON!

I thought about honeysuckle and lightning bugs, and how strange it must have been for the people who looked out their window one warm July evening and saw the silhouette of a lunatic redhead darting all over the neighborhood, into people’s yards, and into the middle of the road, trying to catch the one lightning bug that was still in existence.

I thought about deodorant, and how I would have to change my ways if ever I lived in a place where sweating is involuntary. As it is now, I live in place where sweating is more or less voluntary.

I thought about the mature in years lady who sat directly in front of us on our first flight, the one who turned around and glared at our child and us whenever fussiness ensued. I thought about how she was just lucky she wasn’t with us on our last flight because if she had been, I’m pretty sure she would have given herself a headache with all those eye rolls, and the smack to her face I wouldn’t have been able to control.

I thought about how I probably never would have actually smacked her. Words are much sharper, and less likely to get me arrested.

I thought about the young man returning home from an LDS mission who was on our last flight, who listened to a much more than just fussy baby and still had enough compassion leftover to ask me, after landing, if I and the baby were okay, without an ounce of hostility or ugliness in his countenance.

I thought about how I should have gotten his number . . . for my sister who is single. Duh.

I thought about how grateful (I guess that’s the word) I was that an unexpected visit from my monthly friend came just as I was exiting our last and final airplane. Any sooner and I would have been fully unprepared and pissed.

I thought about how again I am grateful (that’s the only word that comes to mind), that Bubba vomiting and my left arm being completely enveloped by baby barf, happened in the comfort of our own home, and not whilst on an airplane. Because that truly would have sucked.

I thought about how I should stop doing all this thinking and just enjoy cuddling my sick baby while he’ll let me, and before he passes the bug onto me.

Cue end of thinking session.

Any thoughts?

Is there a bright side to a sleepless night?

How many times was I awakened last night? Let me count the ways.

1:00 AM Gun shot or some pre-pre-fireworks. Rowdy teenage neighbor most likely the culprit. Officially falling asleep is pushed back another fifteen minutes.

2:00 AM One of our smoke detectors goes off, sending waves of hysteria through my barely coherent body. The panic-inducing squeals only last five to ten seconds but that’s enough to snap me out of lala land, and leave me in a sleepless stupor.

2:15 AM Fully creeped out that our fire alarm went off briefly, I decide I should go investigate since the Husband is obviously not going to. No fire or smoke to be found. But one of the smoke detectors is blinking a red light. I assume this means a low battery. I reassure myself that that can wait until morning.

3:30 AM Roll over onto my left side only to realize that my bosom is throbbing in pain? Clogged duct again? Didn’t I just do this?

4:00 AM Pain has now traveled to my back and neck. Cannot move my neck more than two inches without wanting to punch the Husband in the back, while he’s still sleeping soundly.

5:30 AM Bubba starts crying tears of hunger. I decide to feed him so he’ll go back to sleep. The Husband brings him to me and I realize he (the baby) has snot all over his face so he’s sick and hungry . . . and he’s wide awake.

6:00 AM Still cannot rock Bubba back to sleep so I just lay him in his crib because I’m too exhausted for such tomfoolery and my shoulder is seething. The babe must have entertained himself or fallen asleep because I don’t remember the next hour.

7:00 AM Bubba starts crying again. But my head, neck, shoulder, and boob are pounding in pain. Go find the Husband who has fallen asleep on the couch to put him on Daddy duty.

7:45 AM Bubba is fussing yet again so I feed him . . . again. He seems drowsy so I attempt to put him back to sleep even though holding him sends searing waves of evil through my shoulder.

8:00 AM Decide to put Bubba in bed with me as he will not go to sleep. As usual, this only ends in Bubba crawling all over me, pounding on my tender boob, and head butting me in the face. The Husband has left for work so sleep will not likely come. Plus Bosco will wake up any minute now. And he does.

Today has been a rough day. Bright side? At least I’m not a skunk. Skunks have it hard.

Another bright side? A small thunderstorm rolled in, and I love me-self an electric aura in the air.