Now, I am a grown woman. Not old old, but old enough to have kids in school, dishes in the sink and only 1 good pair of shoes. To me, this is middle age. So why is it i have the memory span of an 80 year old? It used to be funny, ha ha i forgot the doctor's name, oops.. almost forgot the diaper bag, you get the picture. Why is it now more like... what are the kids names again? We only have 2... are you sure? The simple question of their ages can brings me to a dead pan stare for a good 10 seconds too long.
i swore i would never turn into my mother. i do sit ups to avoid the belly bulge (still not working) i won't match my shoes to my purse (unless it is a really cute purse) and lipstick will not cross my lips unless it has a flavor involved. To me, THESE things signify my mother. Who knew her lack of memory would hit me out of nowhere? i do the sudoku, i try crosswords, this is not supposed to be happening yet, and selectively too. I can tell you where my last run was, what route, how long it took and what clothes i was wearing but, ask me the day a field trip form is due and i channel my mother. Does this mean something?... Do i love running more than my kids? They ask me who i love best, maybe they weren't giving me enough options, throw in some alone running time and you may have a hands down winner...
That is where i am not my mother. In my perfect 37 year old mind she never yelled, always loved and smiled at us, never tried to, literally, run away from home. She baked cookies and patiently played bored games, she read us books and laughed at all of our jokes. She had the patience of a saint. Maybe i should embrace my increasing lack of memory in honor of my mom and not beat myself up next time i call the boys the wrong names (yes, even the dog's name). Hmmm, it is a thought, or maybe i should keep up the sudoku and run with lipstick on tomorrow, yup... i'll try that first.
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