Brain Farts

Lately, I’ve been having even more brain farts than usual. I know — that’s probably hard to believe, huh? Well, it’s actually very true. You see, I’ve recently worn my thong sideways, put the orange juice in the pantry, and searched all over for my keys that were still in the front door. I’ve been blaming it on my kids and how much they stretch my mind in so many different directions, what with their 10,000 different questions per minute and all. But sometimes, I really think I only have myself to blame for my temporary acts of stupidity. Take for example, last Friday when I completely forgot my car of all things.

I had volunteered to help in my son’s classroom in the afternoon, and since I was naturally running late (remember, I will be late for my own death), I opted to drive over to school. I parked just down the street and rushed inside to help the kids with a little gardening project. By the time we’d wrapped up the project and the dismissal bell had rung, I could think of nothing else but locating my two kids and the friends they’d invited over for a playdate after school. Since I was the person responsible for collecting and depositing these four short people safely to my house, my brain was fixated on this and this alone. (Car? What car?)

We took our sweet old time enjoying the leisurely walk home in the gorgeous afternoon weather while the kids picked weeds and chased each other and I chatted with other moms along the way. I smiled to myself at just how under control I had things. Piece o’ cake.

When we got to our front porch and I glanced into the street, I noticed that my car wasn’t there. WTF?! For a split second, I actually allowed my stupid self to wonder if the friggin’ thing had been stolen. And then my brain ripped a big old fart in a moment of clarity. Oh shit! I’d left the damn thing all the way back at school! To say I felt like a moron would have been a bit of an understatement. No, what I felt like was Chrissy Snow, minus the ginormous flopping bra-less boobs.

I talked a neighborhood girl into coming over to stay with the kids while I ran back over to school and drove my dumb ass back home. I tried to rationalize it by telling myself that I’d just gotten over a horrendous cold and had just eased back into the land of the living. Still, though, how do you forget your flipping CAR?! That’s just pathetic. I need to start stocking up on blueberries or some other kind of brain food cause my family’s gonna ship me off to the old folks’ home soon if I don’t shape up.

** So tell me about one of your brain farts!  Don’t let me feel all alone in my senior moment here please…. **

What’s Your Name Again?

I’ve decided that my life would be a hell of a lot easier if everyone just wore name tags. It’s sad but very true that I can’t seem to remember anybody’s damn name anymore for anything in this world. It absolutely blows my mind to think that I used to be a teacher and responsible for knowing a whole classroom full of kids’ names. I couldn’t do that now if my life depended on it! Somewhere in the process of pushing out two screaming children from my body, I apparently also pushed out my memory.

Any time I meet someone new and they tell me their name, I try very hard to absorb this information for later use. However, the next time I come in contact with the person, I inevitably draw a complete blank when it comes to saying hello. The wheels are spinning wildly in my head, but all that seems to come out is a, “Hey there……YOU!” It’s extremly embarrassing, and I used to play it off like it was nothing. Now I just openly admit that I suck with names and blame it on motherhood stripping away my brain cells.

The worst is when I can’t remember people’s names who’ve told me over and over again what their names are. I’ve done this with several moms from school who clearly know my name, but my memory bank is completely empty when it comes to knowing theirs. And it’s gone beyond the comfortable period of time in which I could still ask for a reminder. Can you imagine how awkward it’d be to ask Mrs. X. what her name is after I’ve had a gazillion freaking conversations with her at pickup time?

I also tend to get stuck on completely wrong names for people too. Once I get a name in my head, it’s like I can’t stop calling the person that, even if it couldn’t be farther from the correct one. I’ve called my neighbor Patty for years and just recently found out that her name is “PAULA“. She must think I’m the biggest jackass on the block. And when my son had a playdate over here yesterday, I must’ve called that kid every little boy’s name under the moon EXCEPT for his actual name.  Poor kid probably went home and told his mom that he never wants to play with the weird lady’s son ever again.

But you see, if everyone was required to wear nametags, there wouldn’t be any more of those tense moments where you’re racking your brain to come up with a frickin’ name.  It’d be right there in plain sight.  No more awkwardness!  No more feeling like a complete dumb ass!  Come on…who’s with me?!
HELLO my name is:  Nucking Futs Mama!!!