My memory is going somewhere fast - in the wrong direction, moving away from me. My ability to remember where I put anything is worse than it was when I was pregnant. During my nine months of prego-ness, I put a box of macaroni and cheese in the dishwasher and washed it. And I left my purse in almost every restaurant. My husband would usually have to drop me off at home because by then I had to pee like a mother scratcher, and he would make the trek back to the restaurant, alone, to retrieve my bag. What a guy, eh?
Now, all of my brain cells are so consumed with my son's well-being that there just isn't room for anything else. When did he eat last? Why won't he eat solid foods without vomiting? Why doesn't he like apple juice? Why will he not hold his dang bottle? It is endless.
Atleast four times a week, my cell phone is missing. Can't be found anywhere in the house. So, my husband calls my phone until we finally hear it ringing in the pocket of my robe or underneath a mountain of laundry on the washing machine. Sometimes, he will see it lying around the house, buried in the bed covers or on one of the shelves in our closet, and he will just go ahead and bring it to me, knowing that sooner or later I will ask him if he has seen it anywhere.
I find half-eaten jars of baby food in the fridge and have no idea if I put them there and how long they have been there. So, I end up throwing them away. So wasteful!
Today I lost my already fading mind. My son and I were running errands - Barnes and Noble, Glo, the bank. We were both in good moods, he was loving the new piggy puppets I bought him at B&N. Smooth.
When we were five to ten minutes from the house, I reached over with my thumb to touch and spin my wedding ring (constant habit) and I realize I'm not wearing it. I panic. Did I put it on this morning? Did I leave it on the kitchen windowsill? Surely I had put it on because I would have noticed earlier if I wasn't wearing it because I am constantly spinning it around my finger. This thought sent me into uber-panic mode.
Also, I am always taking it off in the car and putting it in my lap to immerse myself in antibacterial lotion, another constant habit since I became a mother -- I am a germ freak geek. Did I forget it was in my lap and then get out of the car at B&N and now my precious wedding ring is in the middle of the parking lot somewhere where someone probably already stole it and can't believe their good fortune because some moron was careless enough to lose it (this is how my mind works when I panic... it is all run-on sentences and no periods) or did I take it off at Glo and leave it on a shelf somewhere among the Philosophy gift sets and over-priced candles?
I was positive that I had been wearing it because I remembered thinking earlier that if the cop I had just passed followed me without my knowledge and noticed I was warning people coming the opposite direction to slow down by flashing my brights, then I would just say that my wedding ring was on my dash and when I reached over the steering wheel to get it, I accidently hit my brights, therefore proving that I was not warning others after all. You are all getting a crash course into how my sicko brain functions. I am always coming up with these little "what if" scenarios. When I was a kid, I had a plan of action in case we were ever robbed in the middle of the night. I would ask the robber if I could have a cup of orange juice and ask him if he would like some also. But, it wouldn't be orange juice. It would really be orange watercolor paints and when he drank it he would choke! I'm not sure what I thought would happen after that, maybe he would die or pass out or vomit. I'm not sure.
Anyway, I called my husband, major panicking. He was calm, tells me everything is going to be okay, the ring is insured, we will buy another one and tells me to call him when I get home. I hang up and start crying. I am thinking about how I don't want another ring. I want THAT ring, the one my husband picked out all by himself, the one that changed my life forever. THAT ring. Another ring wouldn't mean anything. It would just be an expensive ring.
I am bawling now. I am speeding, trying to get home as fast as I can. I hit road construction. YOUV'E GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!!!!!! I know my son can hear me sobbing, trying to catch my breath and I wonder what he is thinking.
As soon as I pulled into the driveway, I ran to the house and almost ripped the screen door off trying to get it open. I ran to the kitchen, I look on the windowsill. And there it is. Sitting right where I had left it that morning, sparkling in the sun. Good Golly Miss Molly.
I went back out to the car to get my son out of his car seat. Sweet little peanut, he was just sitting there, spinning his feet round and round, playing with his rubber duckie. I sat down next to him in the back seat of my car and cried. I didn't have the energy to get us both out of the car. So, we sat there playing with his duck and my sunglasses, singing songs and laughing, all the while I am still crying. I think I cried for about twenty minutes. I was so exhausted, so happy, and I never loved my husband so much.
This made me remember that my husband did pick that ring out all by himself. We never went ring shopping while we were dating. He did it all on his own. A total surprise. It made me think about how the night we got engaged changed both of our lives forever. It hasn't been easy or perfect. Nothing worthwhile ever is (ending this sentence with a preposition is killing me...trying to move past it). And now we have a little boy, a home, two dogs, and each other. My ring is so much more than a pretty piece of jewelry. It is a reminder that I now have everything I ever truly wanted. Damn, I am a lucky girl.
Now if I could only remember where I put my cell phone this afternoon.
Seriously. Where is it?
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