Friday, March 30, 2007

And if it Wasn't Attached, I'd Lose My Head Too

Photo by (UB)Sean R.
"Hey can I have the keys? I need to move the car."

I'm in the kitchen washing dishes. Keys? Car? They must be in my purse. Maybe my jacket. Or did I leave them in my pants pocket?

After searching the entire house for about 10 minutes, we find them in the bathroom. The bathroom?

My name is Scattered Mom, and I have a disease. It's called Misplaceritis. In Austria there's even a word for it-verlegen (a person who misplaces things). Some would say it's a symptom of dementia, Non Verbal Learning Disorder, or ADHD. All I know is that it wreaks havoc in my daily existence in the form of spending half my time looking for stuff that I should know I have. And I do know! It's here....somewhere. Don't ask me where, because I probably couldn't tell you.

"Jake, just wait a minute, Mom needs to find the car." We're standing outside the grocery store, cart in hand, scanning the parking lot. I can't remember where I parked the car.

"Mom, it's right there," Jake knows. He always knows. "You know, if you forget you can always press the panic button thing on the keys and then just follow the beeping." Oh, right. That is the coolest invention. I've scared a few people standing by the car doing that, but it does come in handy. That is, if you left the correct side of the mall to begin with. My biggest fear is forgetting where I parked on a ferry. I could see it now-enjoying a coffee and the sights of the ocean and islands passing by, and the ensuing panic after the announcement to go back to our cars. Car? Which deck? Where on the deck? They would be unloading and there I'd be, wandering the decks looking for it while the people behind my empty car mutter about what a moron I am. Maybe BC Ferries put those lovely pictures on the stairways just for people like me. Instead of remembering where I parked, I just have to remember the seal or starfish picture. That will at least get me to the right stairway.

Then there's my glasses. I'm practically blind without them, you know. If I happen to take them off and then forget where I put them, I can't even SEE them to FIND them. I end up enlisting Jake or Handy Dad's help as I wander through the bedroom, feeling around Velma-style, while they snicker.

I lose my purse in the house on a daily basis. Phone numbers and addresses are doomed unless I immediately program them into my cell phone, and grocery lists are always made more then once. Even the cordless phone isn't immune to misplaceritis, as I end up following the ringing sound in order to find the head set because, you know, I misplaced it. It's here in the house....somewhere.

Needless to say, it drives my family, especially my meticulous never-loses-anything husband, crazy.

The other morning was a typical school morning. Jake took longer then usual to drag out of bed, and I was focused on getting out of the house on time for work. We were on our way out the door when I asked him for his house key. You see, I had to give him mine because the extra we had cut for him didn't work.

"You have it."
"No I don't."
"Yes you do!"

I bit my tongue against the tirade I wanted to launch at my child, because he is also prone to misplaceritis. The only thing is, he always loses the important stuff like homework, notes from teachers, and house keys. We frantically searched the house, car, backpacks, bathrooms, and jackets as precious minutes ticked away. Finally, I gave up. We were both anxious and frustrated, ready to start fighting with each other when I told him to get into the car. We'd just stop by Dad's office and pick up his house key to lock up. I would be seriously late for work, and I told him then and there that I wouldn't get him a house key if he couldn't be responsible with it.

I pulled up at the school quickly, urging Jake to hurry and get out of the car so I could go. He asked me for something and sighing, I opened my purse. What is that blue thing?

His keys.

Which were in MY PURSE the entire time.


Now just add on the foot in mouth thing too.

© 2011 Notes From the Cookie Jar, AllRightsReserved.

Designed by ScreenWritersArena