Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Genetics vs. Sleep Deprivation

So, in a bizarre twist of fate, my three month old is sleeping through the night, but my four year old isn't. I say this because I'm wondering how much of my recent confusion and instability is the result of genetics and how much has more to do with my late night trips to Brynna's room to get her a cup of milk, or pick her blanket up off the floor or turn on the bathroom light or give her "huggies."

Yesterday, we walked out of the house without Brynna's lunch plate. It's her responsibility to bring the lunch plate to school. She knows that. I help, though. I always check and make sure she's holding it AS we walk out the door. I always ask her when we get to the bottom of the hill if she has her lunch. Yesterday, I walked out of the house without checking and didn't remember to ask until 20 minutes later.

So, I had to go home to get it. Except that I remembered on my way home that I had also forgotten my planner. So, I got that too.

Then, today, I locked myself between the house and the car. I knew I was forgetting something, I just knew it. I have a mental checklist for the mornings and I flew down it quickly: Maren's bag, Brynna's lunch (!), my purse, my planner, my cell phone, is everyone wearing shoes? Does everyone have weather appropriate clothing? Check, check, check. I walked out the door and immediately after closing the front door, I remembered what it was that I had forgotten - KEYS!!!

I used to do this all the time, so I always try to leave a window unlocked. Don't bother, thieves, apparently I don't do that anymore. I did find one window unlocked, but the screen wouldn't move, so only the top of the window would open. I tried to talk Brynna into letting me hoist her into a closed room in a dark, empty house and then running to the front door that she can't always get unlocked and try to let me in. She wasn't so keen on it.

So, I called The Husband. My dear, sweet husband came to the rescue. He was late for work, so I'm sure he's annoyed.

My grandma has always believed that she was getting Alzheimer's. It's just a thing for her. She's believed it since she was 12, I assume, or since the disease was discovered, whichever came first. We all laugh and remind her that she's always been forgetful, she just forgot. Heehee. And also that it's hereditary. We're all forgetful. My mom calls me at least once a week and when I say hello, she cheerfully informs me that she forgot why she called. Sometimes these phone conversations will go on for hours and she'll never remember what she wanted to tell me.

I leave my phone at home about once a week. I have also been known to drive right past the place where my kids are while they are there. Just forget that I have kids, or that I have to pick kids up, or at the very least where I entrust people to watch said kids. I've never made it home and remembered that I forgot one (at least not since home got so far away), but I'm sure it's coming.

I can't count how many times my Grandma forgot me at school or at church or whatever. I wasn't particularly traumatized by any of this, and in fact, I always thought it was funny.

Until I started doing it. Now it is not funny, not funny at all.

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