What’s Wrong With My Brain?

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Mikayla & Hope have speech therapy every Monday at 2:00.  Hope and her therapist had already started their session.  Mikayla was quietly waiting for her therapist to come and get her.  It was 2:05 and she still hadn’t come. She must be running behind schedule. 2:10 and she still hadn’t come.  That’s strange. She’s never been this late before.  At 2:15 the light bulb inside of my brain went off.  I remembered that the therapist told me last week that she would be away for training and wouldn’t be able to see Mikayla this week.  She even gave me a paper to remind me that she would be out.  The paper disappeared inside of my purse and I completely forgot we had even had the conversation.  What is wrong with me?

I received an email last week from Taylor’s violin teacher.  She said that Taylor had missed her violin lesson. What?  You’ve got to be kidding me!  Taylor has a lesson every other week.  I was positive that she had went to a lesson the previous week.  A quick look at my checkbook proved that I was wrong.  It had been two weeks since we paid for a violin lesson.

I paid a bill online.  They said I hadn’t paid it. Yes I did!  I’ve got the paper to prove it! It’s right here in my extremely organized file system.  15 seconds later it was in my hands.  I couldn’t find a confirmation number anywhere on that paper.  But it clearly said “please press final authorization to complete your payment”.   What?  I didn’t hit the final button to make the payment? Really?  Someone must have been screaming for toilet paper and I just thought I hit the authorize button before I ran to save the day.  We had to pay a finance charge of $1. At least I made the mistake on a bill that was $12.

I get so frustrated when I do these things.  I’m a perfectionist.  I’m “a place for everything and everything in its place” type of gal.  I despise paying late fees.  I’m embarrassed because Taylor’s violin teacher was waiting and wondering where she was.  I used to work in a doctor’s office.  People who didn’t show up for their appointment and didn’t bother to call annoyed me.  And now I’m one of those people. Great.

I want to be that young 20-year-old girl that I used to be.  She could remember everything.  She wouldn’t have forgotten that the therapist wasn’t going to be there. She never forgot an appointment and she was always 15 minutes early.  She paid every bill on time.  Her house was clean and dust free.  What happened to that girl?

Our two turtles keep me up until 11:00 or even midnight some nights.  Last week Mikayla woke me up at 4 a.m. to say “I love you, Mommy!”  I sometimes don’t get enough sleep because the girls keep me up.  And sometimes I can’t sleep because my brain that doesn’t seem to work during the day goes into overtime at night.

What should we do about this?

What should we do about that?

Maybe we should take the girls somewhere for behavior therapy?  Wonder how much that will cost?

Which night this week will I have time to wrap the girls birthday presents?

I’ve got to get those homeschool books ordered.  The free shipping code expires in a few days.

I’ve got to remember to buy some white sandals for the girls to wear with their Easter dresses.

Did I pay the gas bill?  or is it still in my purse?

Is there anything that we can do to teach the girls to not talk so loudly?  I need to google that.

If there isn’t anything that we can do about them talking so loud, I need to remember to buy some ear plugs. 

I’ve got to remind Brett to pick up the prescriptions on his way to work.

I need to call and make an appointment for Taylor to get her bridesmaid dress altered.

Brynna’s tap shoes are too small.  I need to ask her teacher to order some for her.  The recital is coming up.  I’ve got to remember to do that.

What should we do for Taylor’s high school graduation?

Ok.  Now I know what happened to that young 20-year-old girl.  She turned into a 43-year-old exhausted mother of four.   That 20-year-old girl had a spotless house because she had all the time in the world to keep it clean.   She didn’t have little girls who liked to make messes. She never made mistakes paying the bills because no one ever screamed for toilet paper.  She never forgot an appointment because she rarely had an appointment.  She wasn’t thinking about therapies, violin lessons, tap shoes, prescriptions, graduation, or a bridesmaid dress.  Life was so simple.

But you know what?  When life was simple no one called me Mom.  I’m glad that I traded in my simple life for a new name.   Now that I’ve changed my name to Mom I get to go to violin and dance recitals.  I get to buy birthday presents and tap shoes and white sandals.  This spring I will get to see Taylor graduate from high school and be a bridesmaid for the first time.   And I get to wake up in the middle of the night and hear a little voice say “I love you Mommy”.

I sometimes still feel like I’m that 20-year-old girl.   Sometimes the checkbook balances on the first try and no one screams for toilet paper.  I love those days.  Last week I dusted and vacuumed the living room on the same day.  I was on cloud nine.  Taylor made it to her violin lesson this week.   I even remembered to add extra to the check for the new books that her teacher gave her.  The girls had appointments for shots and we showed up 20 minutes early. Yes we did.   My sister works at the health office and she is my witness.  It really did happen.  I forgot to tell Brett to pick up the prescriptions and I need to remember to pay the gas bill that I found in my purse.  What’s wrong with my brain?  I don’t think there’s really anything wrong with my brain.  I think it’s just full of thinking about four girls who call me mom.

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5 thoughts on “What’s Wrong With My Brain?

  1. Love your blog. It’s all things I can really relate too. Sometimes I think I could have written them but then again I don’t have a way with words like you do. Great job!!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks, Rita. I’m so glad that you can relate to the things that I write about. That was my reason for starting the blog. I wanted special needs parents (and all parents) to feel like they aren’t alone. And I’m finding that I don’t feel so alone either.

      Like

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