Blogs 4


There are days...

My son informs me my memory has gone with my "old age”.  

He has an exacting mind for even the smallest details and I, in his expert opinion, don’t.  Apparently, I have fallen victim to a memory loss disease where, "all the time,” I forget the details he deems most important.  No classic diagnosis for me... my sixth grader, has diagnosed me with "All Timers Disease”.  His own pronunciation of Alzheimer's.

Funny, each day I remember waking four children, at four times, so they can begin their day.  I remember verbal prompts for personal responsibilities, and "round robin” updates on timing.  Then, I ensure they all eat breakfast foods that I thought I had remembered to buy, based on their individual preference, nutritional needs and household necessity-- no easy feat with “All Timers”.

From there, All Timers beating at my brain, I check in with each. Ensuring they have reviewed their backpacks for homework, signed papers, materials, P.E. clothes, lunch.  Assured they are developing independence skills, I oversee as they check and head out to schools.  Juggling doctor, dentist, orthodontist, school programs / meetings, haircut, therapy and playdate schedules for four is balanced against daily demands of grocery shopping, car care, laundry, personal housekeeping,  banking, pet care, and meal preparation... oh, and work.  

My All Timers must be wreaking havoc on me for me to have forgotten work!

One day a cure for All Timers disease will be found and I will remember the most important details again.  I’ll remember what time Japanese animation shows are on T.V. and easily recite all the members of every current rock band and sports team.  Statistics for every new high tech gadget and car will be at my disposal without hesitation.  Certainly all I learned in school (relevant to his homework) will leap from my lips like it was yesterday.  Where he placed every lost item from his retainer to his uniform will pose no problem for my cured mind.  Recalling every keystroke from his lost data, once impossible, will be like reciting my own address.  Wow!  This cure will certainly improve my world!

Pipedreams aside, I muddle through with the fragments of memory left to me.  Mindlessly arriving on time for hundreds of their appointments and coincidently dropping off their forgotten P.E. clothes and lunch sack in the nick of time. I suffer in silence comforted by the knowledge that I’m in good company with those of you sharing this insipid disease.  Since we can’t remember every one of our children’s needs and desires all the time, I suggest a support group to manage our collective guilt. Anyone remember Starbucks??

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