The kids have been asking me to write this piece for a while, but frankly, it’s slipped my mind. They are concerned about my memory. “What memory?” I retort. You see, I remember when my brain was like a steel trap. That I do remember. There was a time when I didn’t have to write myself a note, set buzzers on my cell phone or ask other people to remind me of things. That was then, this is now. As my beloved Trevor recently noted, “I can remember when I was three years old and you can’t remember 2 weeks ago.” (Fooled him! I can’t remember 2 hours ago!)

They say if you lose your memory, you still have it somewhere. (My theory is it is in with all the socks missing from the dryer as well as the kid’s shot records, birth certificates, and the like.) If I still have it somewhere, I hope it will move back in when the kids move out. In case that doesn’t happen, though, I’m keeping their scrapbooks up-to-date. Pictures actually jog our memory and in many cases, make the memory. Since I only take pictures of the happy moments (birthdays, proms, etc.), we’ll all conclude in time that our life at home was one big party. The piles of laundry, temper tantrums and disgusting bathroom sinks will not be pictured and therefore, forever forgotten.

My teens are actually concerned about my wifty-ness. One suggested that I carry a notebook around to make note of things I want to remember. I explained that I tried that method, but was always forgetting the notebook. He told me to write in the notebook to remember the notebook. Hahaha, that is so funny I forgot to laugh! He either has a future in comedy or as an aide to senior citizens.

The faulty memory is not necessarily a family trait. For instance, my mother and sister don’t put any names in their cell phones. They just memorize the numbers. They know everyone’s number. They think it’s FUN to memorize numbers. I, on the other hand, don’t remember numbers. Any numbers. If I lost my phone, I’d only be able to call my husband and, on a good day, 911.

My mind used to be very sharp. When I turned 35, I took what neurologists call a “cognitive step down.” (Turns out it was an escalator to the bottom floor.) I started “compensatory skills” at that time…like writing things down. I write it all down on my calendar. If it’s not on the calendar, it’s not happening. (Except starting laundry, making coffee and unloading the dishwasher, I do those things on autopilot)

Everything else is on the calendar. Here’s a typical day:
Work
Groceries
JB off bus 2:20
Kids drama rehersal 3-5:30
Pick up kids!

This is how I manage. If I don’t get it down, I don’t get it done. No kidding, I have to write down “work” so I remember to go! Even things that repeat, every week, at the same time, for year after year after year, I write down. “Bible Study, Wednesdays, 10-12” got tedious to write so I printed out a label and slapped it on 52 weeks out of the year. Not noting it was not an option. It’s the only way to ensure I’ll be there.

I once read a story about Ronald Reagan. Apparently he kept a desk journal, like mine, and wrote down everything. As the story goes, one day mid- January, his Day-Timer read:
Get up
Shower
Read Bible
Eat Breakfast
Get inaugurated.

I can’t actually recall where I saw that story, but I’ve repeated it a lot. I don’t think I made it up, but who knows, I could have. The point being, very successful people need to jog their memories once in a while. Or once in an hour. But they are still beloved and don’t necessarily all go on to develop Alzheimer’s.

Why is my memory so swiss-cheesey? I have to give credit to the kids. Each one of them cost me hundreds of billions of brain cells during pregnancy. (These, again, is not scientifically verifiable, but ask other parents and they’ll agree….kids make you dumb. Kids will also agree their parents are dumb, especially after age 13). I turned to my beloved Google to verify this for you. “Some reasons for post pregnancy memory loss are lack of sleep, improper diet, birth, and lactation.” You ask me, the real cause of post pregnancy memory loss is KIDS.

Once I was leaving church after a lovely Mother’s Morning Out. I spoke with my friend Jeanette in the parking lot for a while, but was bothered thinking I’d forgotten something. Oh yes! I forgot my Bible! I ran back into the church to grab the Bible and was accosted by the childcare worker. “We were wondering when you were coming to get your baby,” she said knowingly. Oh right, I knew I forgot something important. Julia. (And she’s a keeper.)

So, it’s irritating to forget to pick up milk and bread. But in truth, there are some great benefits to the Loose Mom Memory. It causes the kids to be responsible for their own library books, school schedules and soccer cleats. After asking me seventy-five times, “Do you know where I left my ________________?”, the kids develop this odd habit of keeping track of their own stuff. (Mostly.) It’s sheer delight. It’s also fantastic to see how the kids are learning to write down their work schedules, start grocery lists and already begin to take care of me in my old age. They are definitely five things I will never forget.