Ditzy Chick

I don't know if its my advancing age or the line drive I took to the forehead when I was a 14 year old JV softball pitcher, but I have the memory of a slug. Actually, I bet slugs have very long memories relative to their life span, so maybe I should change that comparison to I have a memory like Leonard from Memento. My ability to retain information is almost nonexistent. I should invest in a Polaroid camera and tattoo notes to myself all over my arms, because these days I can't remember what I had for breakfast - or to even have breakfast. So its no surprise that I am terrible at replying to emails (Hi Kvetch! I'll reply soon.) and returning phone calls. I tend to put things aside, promising myself that I will get back to them later on in the day, only to forget them under the pile of other important tasks to remember. Until a week later when, at 3am, I'm jolted awake with the realization that I'm a terrible human being and someone expected me to provide a recipe or a mutual friend's new address. But do I jump out from my under down comforter and dash off a quick note to myself for the morning?

Nooo. That would make sense, wouldn't it?

When the sun rises and I'm immersed in a new day, my thoughts from just a few hours before soon vanish with the morning fog. I know you're probably thinking that I should put a notepad and pen next to the bed, but you've never seen me at 3 in the morning. I am in no shape to speak, never mind write. I'm barely coherent enough to elbow my husband in the ribs when he snores in my ear. Again.

The things I do remember have no rhyme or reason. I'm horrible with dates, but I can sing all the words to "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant". I can recall in vivid detail sitting on the floor of the spare bedroom of my childhood home when I was 3 years old and my mother telling me that I wouldn't be able to play in that room for very much longer because it was going to be the nursery for my soon-to-be-born sister. But I have trouble remembering my sister's home phone number if I don't have the phone in front of me.

(Okay, to my credit I hardly ever call her at home. I always call her at work. Or I just let her call me. See "laziness" below.)

I remember the exact date when my husband proposed - 10/01/01 - but I frequently forget if my wedding anniversary falls on the 30th or 31st of August*. I know, that's horrible. Thankfully, I had it inscribed inside of my wedding band as my own personal cheat sheet. So its not a matter of importance - my anniversary is very important to me - I honestly don't know why I remember the things I do.

My poor memory made school very difficult for me. I knew, even though I studied, when it came time to take a test most of the information that I tried to cram into my head would vanish into thin air by the time I took my seat. Mnemonic aids never worked for me. Well, that's not entirely true. "Roy G. Biv" and "Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge" are ingrained in my memory forever. But I'd really rather forget "Shirley MacLaine Vomits Every Morning, Jimmy Stewart Usually Never Pukes" if it means thinking of Aurora Greenway blowing chunks to remember the order of the planets.

Some, and I stress the word some, of my forgetfulness can be attributed to laziness. Like the thank you notes I've been meaning to write to friends and family for Chicky's birthday presents. Every week I intend to sit down with those damn notes and get them off of my to-do list, but something (blogs) gets in the way and I end up absorbed in (blogs) something else and forget, yet again, to write those thank-you's because I was busy doing other things (blogs). I think my family is considering writing me out of their wills.

I could probably continue on with life in my own airheaded way and get along just fine with only the occasional comment from friends about my ditzyness, but now I'm a Mama. And Mama's are supposed to remember everything. Birthdays, anniversaries, a whole summer of cook-outs and graduation parties. Doctor's appointments, the dogs and cats vaccination schedules, playgroups, presents for major holidays. When to buy new shoes for the baby when she grows out of the old ones (Damn. I've got to go shoe shopping with Chicky today. Shoot. Gotta write that down.), what her favorite foods are and which two vegetables she'll eat. I can barely remember to put on clean underwear but I have to remember to brush my baby's teeth and give her fluoride drops everyday. Its enough to make Wonder Woman cry Uncle! And all she had to do was remember where the hell she parked her invisible plane. Who the hell put me in charge of the family schedule? Fuck a duck, I've got to remember to make a schedule!

If I could just remember where I put my date book.


*I just checked my wedding band - my anniversary is August 31st. Thank God for jewelry!


(Crouton Boy - I didn't forget the Meme you tagged me for! I'll do it in a day or two. Promise.)