Forget to Remember Most Things…
Since about my third trimester my memory has absolutely fallen apart. I used to be so organised, planning everything carefully, from projects I was working on, to personal things I needed to plan like social events and cards and presents to buy for birthdays coming up. I used to get many tasks done in a day with no trouble at all.
I forget to do the washing.
I forget to call the energy company to change our tariff.
I struggle to remember when birthdays are.
I start to make a cup of coffee, then do a bit of washing (when I remember), then forget about the coffee so that it’s cold when I remember it’s been sitting on the side for the last half hour.
I forget to call people.
I forget to finish that piece of writing I’ve started.
I forget to go to the post office and send that birthday present.
I make a list but I forget to look at the list.
I don’t mean to do this. I never forget anything when it comes to looking after our daughter – that’s, understandably, what is at the forefront of my mind. I have to be forgiving of myself though. After nearly five months of broken sleep I have to remember that it’s okay to forget certain things sometimes.
Then, wandering round our home, I start to wonder how things have come to be as they are and have now have come up with a reel of questions – usually starting with ‘how did’ or ‘how come’ – that have changed since my memory has….erm…what happened again?
How did all that washing get there? I’m sure I never used to have that much.
How did I go from being showered and dressed by 7 o’clock to still walking round in a dressing gown at lunchtime?
How did she manage to bring up all that milk again? Once again my cardigan’s dotted, pyjama pants covered and hair matted in recently regurgitated milk. And then she’s hungry again.
How come our living room has shrunk in size?
How did she get so big in such a short time? She’s nearly outgrown her playgym already!
How come it is 9pm and we are only just eating dinner? I’m sure we started cooking four hours ago!
How did I come to start getting excited about a Saturday night simply because our daughter has finally gone to sleep by 10?
And even more, when did I start to get excited about myself being tucked up in bed by 10 on a Friday night? I used to be getting ready to go out at 10!
Got any ‘how did’ or ‘how come’ questions you ask yourself at times? Share them with me!