Lost; one brain

>> Wednesday, 23 April 2008

The Potty household was in crisis yesterday morning. Or rather, I was. I was lost, ruderless, up a nasty brown creek without a paddle. I was compass-less, I had mislaid my charts, I had no idea which way was up or down. What caused this shocking state of affairs?

I lost my diary.

Now, pre-children, this would have been no biggie. I would have been working, for starters, so all the important stuff would have been duplicated on Outlook in the office. And - rather more relevantly - I would still have had some kind of a memory. But post-kids? Memory? I'm sure I should know what that is, but you know, I've kind of... what's the word again... oh yes. Forgotten.

Sometimes it feels as if the grey matter in my head, which used to be, if not razor sharp then at least capable of inflicting a nasty graze, has just turned into a sludgy, porridge-like mess that is no use to man nor beast. Think treacle, and you'll have some idea of how quickly my thought processes work on occassion. It's normal, apparantly, post children, to feel like this. And I do remember that after Boy #1 was born I felt very similar. Crucially though, I went back to work between kids, which forced me to sharpen up rather more than I've had to since paid employment went by the wayside after Boy #2 arrived.

Nowadays things can literally go in one ear and straight out of the other. Not everything (Husband, in case you're reading this, of course I remember every conversation we ever had, and if I claim you haven't told me something then of course you haven't...), but if we're talking fine details, like dates and times, then forget it. Literally.

For example, I will remember that Boys #1 or #2 have a doctors or dentists appointment coming up soon. But when? What day? Where? Who knows... Or, a playdate. I can tell you there will probably be a playdate sometime this week. But will it be here? Will I need to provide dinner for the chosen friend? What time will their mummy be collecting them? Anyway, you get the picture. I have to write it down to remember it.

So, when I realised late on Monday night that I couldn't find my diary, I had a bit of a panic, to put it mildly. I hunted everywhere. I looked in my handbag. I looked in the nappy bag. I looked in every room in the house (which I'm ashamed to admit did include my cherub's bedrooms - with a torch, though, not the light on. Because turning the light on to hunt for something in the middle of the night in your child's bedroom would be crazy, right? Unlike crawling around on your hands and knees with a torch in your mouth as you rifle through the toy chest...). I checked in the car, the boot of the car, my gym rucksack, and cupboards that hadn't been opened in months. In brief, I resembled nothing so much as Olivia in 'Olivia and the Missing Toy' (if you don't have this book for your kids, check it out, it's hilarious, especially the look on her mummy's face when her daddy promises to buy her a new best toy. Then again - you probably know that expression already...). Then, when I had looked everywhere, I looked again. And still I couldn't find it.

The next morning I woke in the foulest of moods and my darling Husband promised to help me look. He looked in all the places I had looked - and then, just to make sure, I looked again. Still, no diary.

Now, whilst all this was going on, I was fighting the natural inclination any mother has. The default mechanism that arrives when the baby starts to crawl, and only strengthens when they begin to walk. The inclination to blame the children. Because, let's face it, a small silver-coloured book with empty pages perfect for drawing on has to be a Boy magnet, doesn't it? But there was no evidence of foul play from the Boys, and Boy #1 swore blind when questioned that he hadn't touched the diary, hadn't seen the diary, in fact what was a diary, and could he have television now?

I relented and started to think the diary was lost for ever. Which of course put me in an even fouler mood. And the realisation that this was JUST A DIARY for CHRISSAKE!.. didn't really help. Social ostracisation due to missed birthdays, dinners and playdates, blackballing by the nursery due to failed appearances at parents evening, not to mention being refused entry to the doctors, dentists, hairdressers due to non-attendances at appointments, loomed.

So when Husband finally found the blasted thing tucked under the sofa (which I had checked, I hasten to add), I was relieved, delighted, thankful and embarrassed at having been so worked up about the whole thing.

And, of course, justified. I knew it had been the Boys - all along.



Now - before you disappear to much more entertaining blogs, take a look at this link (courtesy of Alpha Mum), and if there is a man in your life you will laugh your socks off. Particularly watch out for the reference to the 'man with a hurty knee'...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mz6DktXFvg4

13 comments:

Mom de Plume 23 April 2008 at 11:50  

Oh boy do I know how you feel. Porrige brain may be normal but it can cause some serious confusion. I have resorted to a notepad on the fridge - which has all the important events for the day (and my shopping list)on it - due to constantly misplacing my diary! Now I just have to remember to look at the list...

aims 23 April 2008 at 17:11  

Very funny vid - thanks all around!

So the kids tucked it away did they? Hmmmmm - did you find new pics drawn in it and stuff? All very suspicious...especially since the husband found it...Hmmmmm

Looking forward to your eventual post on that other subject PM...

Pig in the Kitchen 23 April 2008 at 17:28  

i'm so very impressed that you write stuff in a diary. I agree to tons of stuff in the playground, some of it filters thru to my calendar, lots doesn't. You then get the reputation for being a numbskull and people tell you things 20 times, and THAT's how you drift along from week to week. No frenzied hunting for me! Note my smug tone? that means something bad is going to happen to me...
Pigx

Expatmum 23 April 2008 at 20:10  

Yes, mine was in the suitacse that didn't make it onto our plane back from FLorida a week or so ago. I nearly kept the kids off school as it contained so much information that I couldn't remember!

Potty Mummy 23 April 2008 at 20:55  

Hi MdP; just one question though. You do remember where the fridge is, right? Or why you went in there to look at it? Because sometimes, I swear I can forget what I went into a room for in the first place...

Aims, I'm so grateful to have it back that I don't care HOW it ended up there. A bit worrying, though, my reaction to losing it. I may have diary dependancy...

Pig, there is definitely a missed birthday party in your near future...(cosmic payback for having it all worked out so well)

EPM - tell me you're not still waiting? Did you by any chance fly home via T5 at Heathrow?

A Mother's Place is in the Wrong 23 April 2008 at 22:28  

I can remember (just) when I had a diary that contained important information. Now, when I never lose it, it only has things like
"Pay Bills", "Car in for Service" and "Daughter here". I'm kidding myself that any of it has to be written down!! Glad yours turned up though - it's all those numbers and addresses that would be missed.. M :)

Tracey 24 April 2008 at 09:18  

It's always in the first place you look. That theory works just about every time in this house.

Know all about the sludge brain... and it's that much worse that I'm starting to worry about early onset alzheimers or dementia or something.

Our youngest has "lost" our TV remote twice. Once we found it in an empty video box, and another time it had been put to 'bed' in between layers of tissues in a kleenex box (a cheapie one that didn't get used very much.)

If you think you were going demented with the diary, imagine the Daddy going spare because the remote was missing!

Potty Mummy 24 April 2008 at 10:55  

Hi Mother's Place; write important numbers in my diary? Are you mad? No, those get saved on my phone. And not backed up of course - because a phone is infinitely more losable than a diary...

Hi Tracey, normally the first place theory works, but for some reason this time it let me down. And we've had the remote crisis as well (well, of course we have with 2 small boys). That's a bad one, I agree...

Expatmum 24 April 2008 at 13:49  

No, it came back the next day but it was a nail-biting time as I hadn't updated the calendar thingy on my phone!
My mother flew to join us via T5 and the problems were unbelievable, resulting in us first changing her flight down to Heathrow,, which they then cancelled completely. She ended up having to take the train, arriving at Heathrow near midnight, then having to stay at the Hilton till next morning.

Grit 24 April 2008 at 22:59  

OMG! The Diary! That is disaster. you have my sympathies. It couldn't get any worse here. unless i lost the diary, the glasses and the keys in one fell swoop.

Bitter Sweet Metaphor Irene 25 April 2008 at 03:08  

I have a diary and sometimes I write something down it it. Ha,ha, my life is a dull roar when it comes to appointments. Other things get real interesting, but they don't get written up in the diary. For all practical purposes, we seem to live a very dull life, but it ain't so. We just don't keep track of the dates.

Guineapigmum 25 April 2008 at 10:54  

I'm so impressed that you manage to manage a diary. I gave up on that years ago. Perhaps it was when the children appeared, my brain went to mush and I couldn't remember to write anything in it, let alone take it with me or find it at critical moments. Now I rely on a calendar that is firmly anchored to the wall. We've had to graduate to one of those family things with a column for each person - and you can only get really naff ones like that. (Although there are probably very upmarket versions in K&C).

But even that isn't foolproof - I forgot a parents evening last week when we were supposed to see the music teacher. And I was the one who created a huge fuss about there being no parents evenings for the instrumental teachers. In fact, that was what started my blog in the first place. Oh dear.

Potty Mummy 25 April 2008 at 13:36  

EPM, your poor mum. This country is going to the dogs...

Grit, I have just got myself some glasses for the first time in nearly two years. The last pair lasted 6 months before being left on a plane (I think). I will be interested to see how long these ones stick around...

Irene, it's retrospective of course, but isn't that partly why we blog?

Hi GPM - I have one of those wall calendars too (and you're so right about their all being naff!), but my problem is actually remembering to write stuff on it. At least I can put the diary in my handbag so I can take it with me - if I only had a wall calendar I would never remember anything, either to write on it, or what was on it in the first place!

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