Silly Mother

When I was little my mom inherited some books that had been hers when she was a child.  One of them was called "Silly Mother".  I loved that book.  I can still see many of the beautiful illustrations in my mind's eye.  It was about a kid whose mom kept doing silly things like forgetting stuff and putting the baby's bottle in the toy box and the toys in the fridge.  It was supposed to teach kids about helping mommy so she won't be so tired and do silly things. 

What I got out of it was that mothers are senile and cannot be relied upon for accurate information or trusted to do the right thing.  I had seen it in the book and in my own mother.  I vowed never to let that happen to me.

Too late.

One of the big secrets of motherhood is that, starting with pregnancy, you lose a little bit of your mind.  And each child takes a bit more.  It's like they suck the brain cells out of you.

Ask anyone who knew me in my pre-baby days about what I was like.  I wasn't a genius; I'll never claim that.  But I wasn't a dummy, either.  I considered myself sharp and on the ball.  I was organized and present.  There were actually a few guys in my classes who were suddenly a lot less interested in me once they discovered my GPA.  (Which was always significantly higher than theirs.)  (They're loss and my gain, I say.  I wasn't interested in someone who was less intelligent or less hard working.)

And now?  Three children later?  I forget words mid-sentence.  I'll find myself driving and temporarily forget where I'm going.  I can sing all of the lyrics of that dang DoraThe Explorer theme song, but I can't remember how to do basic conversions or algebra.  I'll admit I've found toys in the fridge, bottles in the toy closet, and even underpants in the garage.  But those are all because my kids are slobs.  No, really.

Today was the worst.  Spencer's class was having a 'Grandparent's Day', and since our grandparents all live out of state I had made plans to go with him instead.  I signed up to take cookies, I contributed some supplies, and even had someone set up to come watch Josh and Cole.  I was set!  Clean the house all day Monday, go to Grandparent's Day on Tuesday. 

Except Grandparent's Day was today.  Not tomorrow.

Oh !@#$(*!!!

Spencer hopped into the car with facepaint, projects he had completed, and a definite attitude of "Mom, you really dropped the ball on this one."

I emailed his teacher and apologized.  As a mother herself, I suspect she'll understand and be forgiving.  But I have been apologizing to Spencer all day and have not yet received such grace.  He's not mad, but he's sure not afraid of reminding me that I wasn't there.  The worst was when he explained to me that since no one had come to be his grandparents he had to share someone else's, which was not okay with him.

Guilt.

Oh guilt.

Sorry, Spencer.  Again.  Fifteen years from now when you're 21 and reading this.  I'm sorry I mixed up the days and missed that time with you.

And sorry I keep calling you Cole.  And Josh.  And Lance.  Oh - and that time I called you Kevin last night.  And this morning.

I guess I've become a silly mother.  But it's at least 1/3 your fault, so I guess we're even.