I used to think my mom was a little crazy, the way she would forget things and lose things and seem to be totally scatterbrained. She said that motherhood did it to her. And would roll my eyes and think that it would never happen to organized, got-it-all-together me.
But lately? I'm the poster child for craziness. Over the past month or so I have been That Woman. I was That Woman At the Grocery Who Dropped a Jar of Baby Food Prunes on the Floor. I was trying to get it onto the conveyer belt and it fell to the floor and broke and splattered everywhere. Spencer had been helping me to carry the few things we were buying, but halfway through the store he decided that the things he was carrying were "so heavy," and started sticking things into my purse. I was sure that the security cameras were taping us and that I was going to be pulled aside under suspicion of shoplifting, but instead I tried to carry everything in my one arm (Ginger was in the other) and wound up creating a big mess in the checkout line. I apologized over and over, while Spencer stared at the mess, saying, "You shouldn't have dropped that, Mommy."
I was also That Woman Who Ran Three Hours' Worth of Errands With Her Zipper Down, and That Woman Who Went into Preschool With Half a Dozen Size Stickers All Over Her Jeans. It was a new pair, and I'd put them on that morning but didn't immediately take the stickers off. The insanity of getting Spencer to preschool followed, and I didn't remember the stickers until another mom came up behind me and said, "Wait, you've got a sticker on your pants," then bent down and peeled it off for me. What a creative way to meet the other parents!
While on an outing to the mall, I was That Woman Who Had to Use the Public Bathroom with Her Child Sitting on Her Lap. When I got to the mall, I discovered that Gary had removed the stroller from the van and not put it back, meaning that I had to carry Ginger everywhere. Almost immediately after entering the mall, my stomach starting doing that rumbling thing that means, "Get to the bathroom now." Luckily we were near the bathrooms, but after herding the kids into the handicapped stall, I realized that I had no place to put Ginger and was forced to hold her on my lap while I endured an awful bout of, uh, upset stomach.
I was the very familiar That Mom Whose Child Is Throwing a Fit in Public when Spencer had a complete meltdown at Target. I'd been debating whether or not to try on a pair of jeans; Spencer was getting whiny and Ginger fussy so I hung them back on the rack and decided to return sans kids in the evening. Spencer freaked out because I wasn't going to buy the jeans. He turned into Dead Weight Boy, refusing to walk and screaming, "Hold meeeee!" in the middle of the aisle. He's had that kind of tantrum just three or four times in his life, so I shouldn't complain, but when it happens to you it feels like the entire world is watching you, like you must have done something wrong in order for your child to be behaving that way.
My brain lapses have ceased being funny. In just the past week I've misplaced our fairly new 35mm camera and a brand-new pair of jeans we bought Ginger over the summer, and ruined a batch of brownies by forgetting to add two sticks of butter.
Last month, wanting to kill a big chunk of time in the afternoon since Gary was going to be working late, I drove the kids out to a little yarn store I'd never visited. They were well-behaved, and afterwards I thought it would be nice to get a little treat, maybe some ice cream or a cookie. So we strolled down the main street, one of those with small shops and businesses, looking for a suitable place to eat. It's become a horrible habit, not carrying cash, but so many places (even fast food) accept credit/debit cards nowadays that it's rare for me to have any money on me---why take $20 from the ATM if I just want to buy a Coke for $1.50? Anyway, I looked at the stores until we found a place with a credit card logo displayed on the window. Inside, I ordered a small dish of ice cream for Spencer and Ginger to share. When we finished, I went to the cash register to pay the bill, only to have the employee (a slightly hard-looking, not-all-too-friendly older woman who'd also been our waitress) tell me that they have a $10 minimum order for credit cards. I'd spent $1.87. There was no notice posted anywhere about the minimum; I explained to the cashier/waitress that I had three or four pennies in my minivan and that was all the cash I had. I asked if there was an ATM anywhere nearby and she said there wasn't.
This whole time I was feeling more and more embarrassed, holding an increasingly fussy Ginger on my hip while Spencer stared up at us, aware that something wasn't quite right. The woman wasn't being understanding or attempting to find a solution or help me out in any way; I stood there and looked at her until she finally heaved a huge sigh of exasperation and said that she'd go speak with a manager. From the way she said it, you'd have thought she was going to have to walk to the other end of the street, but she went about ten steps and spoke in not-so-hushed tones to a man in an apron. When she returned she said that he'd said just to forget it; I apologized repeatedly and asked if they had a business card with their address on it so I could mail them the money. She said they didn't have one and then stood there. I was getting irked over her attitude---here I was trying to figure out how to remedy the situation, and getting her to give me any information was like pulling teeth. I asked if she had anything else with their address on it, and she said they didn't. I gritted my teeth and asked her the name of the establishment so that I could look it up when I got home. Which I did. I wrote a very nice letter to the kind manager, didn't mention his surly waitress, and enclosed a check for $5. And I will never go there again.
Oh the curses thrown toward my husband when I've discovered he removed the stroller from the van! Been there a few times. It's not just you. :)
Posted by: lex | November 01, 2005 at 06:00 PM
Oh, how I loathe the Dead Weight routine.
Most of the time I feel the same way you do. I stood in line to drop off a prescription for 15 minutes yesterday, and when it was my turn to the register, I handed her the prescription and she said "The Drop off line is that way." The whole time I was in the "Pick-Up" line.
*sigh*
Posted by: kagstone | November 01, 2005 at 08:47 PM
This sounds more like pregnancy brain to me... chuckle
Posted by: OnTheFence | November 01, 2005 at 09:56 PM
Oh, no. No no no. I'm definitely not pregnant, so don't even think it.
Posted by: Amy | November 02, 2005 at 08:18 AM
My eyebrows shot up after reading of onthefence's comment there!
Posted by: Alex | November 02, 2005 at 09:06 PM
Requiring a miminum purchase to use a credit card is almost always against the CC processor's terms & conditions. A lot of smaller businesses try it (because they are paying 4 - 10% of the purchase price in fees) but if you sweetly say that you understood that minimum credit card purchase limits aren't allowed they will usually back down. I only know this because I took CCs for a while for my soap & stamp businesses. (Also, a lot of people will say it's "illegal" for them to set a minimun purchase but it's not against the law but it can get them fined by their processor or even get their account shut down.)
Posted by: Shae | November 04, 2005 at 10:26 AM