Photo: This is a pretty perfect representation of my brain this week. Just mush mushy mcmushmush. Nothing goin’ on in there at all. No thinking, no remembering, no nothing this week.
Let’s set the scene:
I got up yesterday morning a little late, but still managed to have a few sips of coffee before getting the boys up. I got the boys up on time, I got them dressed and out of the house with extra time on the clock, I got them in the car and to school with all sorts of extra time.
In other words, I was feeling like THE GREATEST MOM THAT EVER THERE WAS yesterday morning.
At 9am, we crossed the threshold of school and I went to my “parent mailbox” on a whim. Usually there is nothing there, but I went anyway. There, I was pleasantly surprised to find TWO paintings from Ursa Major (he never does paintings!!) and a something else folded up.
I opened it up, reading the document… it was very evaluationish…
Oh my God I missed my son’s parent-teacher conference.
The one I signed up for last week. The one that was totally on Monday morning at 11am.
Remember what I was doing at 11am on Monday, dear reader? Remember how I was all outside in the sunshine without a care in the world? Remember how I decided to give my locs an oil treatment and deep conditioning treatment because I had so much time on my hands because the boys were taking a good nap? Remember when I wrote that nice Monday post after a pretty care-free day? Remember when I was all “feeling utterly satisfied” at the beginning of said Monday post??
Ignorance truly is bliss.
So I go to the classroom, evaluation in hand, and I’m like “Uh, am I a buffoon?”
and Ursa Major’s favorite teacher chuckles and nods. “Uh, yeah!”
The other moms are there and they think it’s funny. “Oh? You missed your conference?”
I wasn’t the only one, thank God. But do you know who else missed theirs? Yeah… Peggy. Good jorb, me.
“I swear I’m not a flake! This is so not like me!” I squeal, embarrassed.
“Mmhmm…” My son’s teacher nods in understanding.
“I tell people all the time, ‘if it isn’t in Google, it isn’t going to happen.’ I totally forgot to put this in Google!” I try to explain.
The woman shakes her head, chuckles.
“Seriously! I also usually put things in my journal… but it’s full! My system just totally failed me here! I swear I’m not normally like this!”
(Why am I still talking?)
So then she pulls out this line: “Didn’t you go to Harvard? You’d think you could handle this little thing!”
Oh hardy har har, lady. Yes, yes… Very original. Very hilarious. I really wish I had a dime for every time I’ve heard that one.
The thing is, I’ve been pretty distracted all week. I’ve written very little fiction (only about 1500 words total this week), I totally missed our town meeting (I couldn’t vote anyway, but I still wanted to go), I missed this conference, and I’d forgotten that Thursday is my parent helper day. I have no idea what the hell is wrong with me.
I really do have a system. I have a Moleskine that is always on my person. It is full of task lists, schedules, inspirations, random thoughts, descriptions of things I see and are interesting… but it’s really for task lists and stuff of note. Well, it’s full. I need a new one and I haven’t gotten around to buying a new one (The Husband usually gives me new ones as gifts, but I’m not due for a new gift from him ’til May). The journal works in conjunction with the smartphone which keeps the appointments. Google is the master of time. Clearly.
I thought I could make it with just the phone, but clearly I’ve lost my mojo!
And it really pisses me off, because I really am not this person. I’m not a flake. I’m the person who believes that “early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable.” I make commitments and I keep them, even if I have to perform powerful feats of destroying the space/time continuum to make them happen. My reputation for reliability has gotten me very far. I get a lot of mockery for it (my Mother is the first one to crack a joke about my thing about time, commitments and punctuality. Remind me to write down a few.), but I get a hell of a lot more respect for it. Of all the places to besmirch my good name… This is really killing me.
So what in the world is going on here? There is nothing sexy about losing your mind.
I keep telling other people that they are getting old. And here I am. This is it. My precious young brain is turning to mush…
I’m sitting in this chair after spending the entirety of my morning cleaning the house in preparation for the big in-law visit on Saturday. I still have more to do, like these floors, which I’ve decided I’m not going to touch until Friday. I did other annoying things, like scrubbing both of the bathrooms and organizing that playroom. Am I on my third load of laundry today? Yeah I am.
And I still have two loaves of brioche to bake this week. Gotta start one tonight to bake tomorrow and I have to start one tomorrow night to bake on Friday. And since I’m parent helper for school tomorrow, I’ve gotta go back to the grocery store tonight to pick up some blueberries and cheese so that I can make blueberry muffins for snack (and serve it next to some babybells or something).
And if I’m up in the morning baking, that means I’m not up in the morning writing. And that means that I’ve pretty much lost my fiction writing time for the rest of the week (because I always bake muffins on Friday morning.)
I really have no idea what is happening this week. It must be the moon. Or the Universe just wanted to have a good chuckle. Either way, I’m clearly trying to ice-skate uphill.
I certainly hope that you are having a more productive week than I am, dear reader. You know, one where you are keeping up with your schedule and propelling yourself forward toward your goals and what not. Don’t be a buffoon like me!
Will I forget Quiet Thoughts for Friday? At this rate, I’ll have forgotten my name and address by then.