If you are a parent, you will understand.
In the run of a day my brain goes in 476 directions. At the same time. That’s not so impressive because I generally get about 25% of anything accomplished. I walk in circles a lot. Thank God for iPhones. I have several “Notes” started; each with reminders of items to buy or tasks to accomplish. It’s apparently really helpful considering I forget to look at the “Note” when I actually go into the store. It’s clear at this stage in the game, motherhood has taken massive quantities of my brain cells hostage.
I’m not that mom who looks like she has it all figured out. I’m the 100 pound mom dragging a 22 pound car seat with a 15 pound kid in the nook of her scrawny elbow with a ginormous (I wouldn’t have it any other way) diaper bag barely hanging on to my shoulder crevice, shuffling a two year old who’s playing “Who’s that Spartan in my teepee?” between my legs to the car. The fact that I ironed a pair of my daughter’s khaki shorts the other night before I put them away in her drawer made me feel like super mom. Mostly because I legitimately think it’s the first thing I’ve ever ironed anything of hers. I’ll be honest, it was a rewarding feeling I was not accustomed too. Unfortunately, it will probably not happen again for another 2 years.
Naturally, I would forget to check our stash of Pull-Ups yesterday. I knew we were getting low, but was convinced I had a few more days of procrastinating before I had to get to the store and buy a box. It was a regular day, work, my daughter’s first gymnastics class, dinner, play time. Then bath time came and when I opened the cabinet door, I gasped. Crapolla. Not a Pull-Up in sight. 99% of the time my daughter wakes up in the morning with a dry one, but there was no way I was going to chance a wet crib in the middle of the night. I changed the sheets two weeks ago, they should be able to make it another two, why would I compromise THAT? As per usual, my brain went into high gear. Problem-solving at it’s finest. I could stuff her undies with a bunch of tissues like I did when I was 15 and had to pee on that small commercial jet with no restroom? I could use one of her brother’s size 2 diapers and hope that wrapping it around one leg would suffice through the night? And then I saw it. A lone Pamper’s Splasher’s swimming diaper lying on the floor of the closet in her room. They’re basically the same thing. And she was thrilled to see Nemo instead of Dora for a night.
I must say, I feel pretty confident I must’ve paid the ransom for a few of those brain cells last night.