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Forgetful mama

I used to have a really great memory. I could remember all kinds of things. I was especially good at remembering birthdays. And license plates. Not that either of those are particularly helpful things to remember, but I could remember useful stuff, too. Four kids later and I’m lucky if I remember to look at myself in...

I used to have a really great memory. I could remember all kinds of things. I was especially good at remembering birthdays. And license plates. Not that either of those are particularly helpful things to remember, but I could remember useful stuff, too. Four kids later and I’m lucky if I remember to look at myself in the mirror once a day to make sure I don’t have anything weird stuck to the side of my face.

AIM9-6The other day I got three kids loaded into the car (I was only responsible for three of them at the time … I didn’t forget one), and we headed off … somewhere. See? I can’t even remember the details of a story I’ve set out to tell …

We got a little ways down the street, and I flipped a U-ey.

“Why are you turning around?” the 6-year-old demanded to know. She was already annoyed that we were in the car because she didn’t want to be in the car. I asked what she wanted to do instead of be in the car and she had no answer, so I am left to assume that she prefers to annoy me from the comfort of our home, as opposed to irritating me from the backseat of a car.

“I forgot something,” I told her.

“WHAT?! Why did you forget something? Why do you always forget something? First it’s your sunglasses. Then it’s your wallet. Then it’s your entire purse. You always forget something,” she spat.

“Buddy, I forgot the diaper bag. We have to go back because I forgot the diaper bag, and we need to have diapers in case the baby poops. I’m sorry but we have to go back.”

“YOU ALWAYS FORGET EVERYTHING!” Apparently my apology was not accepted.

“I have a lot of kids and a lot to think about, and yes, I do forget a lot of things,” I offered, surprised at my ability to keep my cool to this point. Because what I really wanted to do was shout “YOU’RE THE REASON I CAN’T REMEMBER ANYTHING, YOU TINY, OBNOXIOUS DICTATOR!” But I calmly explained the situation and ‘fessed up to being forgetful. Look at me modeling good behavior!

In what appeared to be a nonsequitor, she declared that when she grows up she’s only going to have two kids.

Stupidly, I asked why that was.

“BECAUSE PEOPLE WITH TWO KIDS DON’T FORGET EVERYTHING ALL THE TIME LIKE PEOPLE WITH FOUR KIDS DO!” she blasted at me from the back seat.

She’s totally right that I do forget something basically every time we get into the car. But still, that’s a cold shot, kid.