Lost and Found: One Mind

Many times my husband will come home from work and ask me how my day went and I will tell him, "I know I was busy all day, but I don't have any idea what I did!"

Well, I finally figured it out. I'm not losing my memory I'm losing my mind.

Every day I make a list of things to do and every day several things get crossed off the list, but I can't even remember doing them. Now I know why. My four-year old has been checking things off my list behind my back.

See, I told you kids are out to get their parents by giving them gray hair and dementia!

Another thing he does is un-do everything I've done right after I've done it. I'll clear the table, leave the room to fold laundry, then come back and see the table set again. While I'm second guessing myself in the dining room, he'll be in the hallway dumping clean clothes into the hamper.

I think he's ready for school. It's time that he messed with the mind of some other adult. The teacher will collect papers, then turn around and see more papers to collect. Where did they come from?

While she's collecting those papers, my son will be taking out blocks. Before she sees who did that he'll be doling out snacks. And knowing my son he'll recruit helpers.

I thought it was an odd coincidence that each teacher my eldest son had was only one school year away from retiring. Well, they better hire a bunch of fresh recruits because his little brother has been a great understudy.

My mother calls him a leprechaun. My sister, who calls her son Wheels, just shakes her head. One of the last times we visited her, my four-year old tore through her house getting into things at breakneck speed, grabbing her cell phone for the great finale and speed dialing before she could catch him. Apparently he was calling command central at 666-####.

This is the same child that takes off running the minute we open the van door when we arrive somewhere. If we walk anywhere near a patch of dirt he drops and rolls in it. If there are buttons to push and switches to flip, he's doing it.

I used to want more babies, but now I just want a nap. Some people hire a ‘mommy's helper,' but I can't imagine having another adult in the same room I'm in telling my son what to do while I veg out. Oh, wait. Yes, I can. I do that the minute my husband walks in the door at the end of the day.

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  • Guest

    God loves you .

    Mothers have their Purgatory on earth.

    We are known as ‘sons’. :) ;)

    In one telling little scenario, Bill Cosby has his father giving the what-fer to Bill or his brother, as ‘sons’. “You, boy, get over here! And, I know you belong here cuz I’ve seen you hanging around!” Of mothers, such as Bill’s, they have to recognize their ‘sons’ so they can rein them in; trying to keep the nut-cases (‘brain-damaged’, as Cosby called it) from leaving the edge of the sheepfold.

    Remember, I love you, too .

    In our delighted glory in our Infant King,

    Pristinus Sapienter

    (wljewell @catholicexchange.com or … yahoo.com)

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