I'm forgetful, and I'm thinking it's only right. For the last 25 years, besides working outside the home, I've kept track of five people's schedules, paid the bills, balanced the checkbook, done the taxes, filled out the FAFSA (by the time our last is through college, I'll have filled out that dang form 12 times), paid for the lunches, signed permission slips, kept track of the college loans, refinanced the house, made the meals, done the laundry, made doctor, dentist, hair, and vet appointments, and a load of other stuff that I'm not remembering. Which is kind of the point, isn't it?
It's not that I resented doing any of these things. But my brain's tired. It's just like a computer with too much data stored for the amount of memory it can hold.
In response to my last post (Are you hot or not?), several moms commented that they could so totally relate to the memory loss of middle age. I had a revelation this week. Our forgetfulness is for our family's own good. If we stayed as sharp as when we were young, our families would have no reason to grow up. Our kids are old enough to take care of themselves. It seems obvious. But when the mom's been doing for so long, it becomes a chronic habit.
My family gets frustrated with me that I don't remember their schedules. I keep forgetting, and they have to keep reminding me. But it occurred to me. Who is keeping track of me besides me. I asked Paige what hours I worked on Wednesday. She didn't know. When's my next hair appointment? She asked why should she know. I looked at her. So if you don't know what I'm doing, why should I know what you're doing? She said she could kind of see my point. "But, you're, well, you're the mom. You're supposed to know everything."
I am knowing a lot less these days. My kids are getting smarter right at the time my brain cells are dying. It couldn't be better timing.