Once upon a time, I was a fully functioning adult. I could remember all sorts of things without a thousand reminders. I
never rarely lost my car keys, stored non-refrigerator things in the refrigerator (I’m looking at you TV remote), or forgot how to drive to my house.
Then I got pregnant. And had kids. And never slept. And Mommy brain took over and ruined me. So I owe a few people my sincerest apologies.
Yes, I got your message. And yes, I’m a horrible person because I ignored it for eleventy weeks. See, I saw the message in the middle of doing anywhere from 3-17 things. Maybe I was holding an angry kid in the throes of a Stage 5 tantrum. Maybe I was called away to intervene in a fight. Maybe I followed screams praying no one would need stitches. Maybe I was making dinner. But whatever it was, I forgot about you.
And I’m REALLY sorry.
Dear People Behind Me at the Grocery Store,
Believe me, I’m as horrified as you are that I got to the front of the line before realizing that I don’t have any milk in the cart. But all my options of recourse suck. I can’t just leave ALL these kids in the cart while I run Supermarket Sweep style to the milk. At least two will run away and one will maybe plunge to her death. I can’t leave without the milk. I mean, I CAN, but then I have to do this all over again tomorrow. And I just. can’t. do that. The odds that I’m going to reload everything into my cart and take the walk of shame back to Dairy isn’t great either. So yeah, the sloth that’s bagging groceries is going to have to go grab it. So we’ve got 13 minutes to kill together waiting for him to come back.
I’m embarrassed. And sorry.
I forgot to wash your underwear.
I’m sort of sorry.
I mean, you COULD just do your own laundry. But this is about apologies so….sorry.
I saw the sign up at check-in saying you need donations of Kleenex, so I went to Costco and bought a lifetime supply of Kleenex. And put it in my trunk. And left it there for six weeks. Because by the time I drove to school I forgot you needed it again. So if you want the Kleenex, please come to my car later. Because I’m pretty sure I’m going to forget again.
Sorry about that.
Dear Starbucks Barista,
Let me preface by saying I haven’t been INSIDE a Starbucks in what feels like a lifetime. I drive through. Because I have three kids and even coffee isn’t worth that many carseat buckles. And when I drive through, I know the routine – flash my phone, get it scanned, grab my coffee and go. So when I went inside, it was like a foreign land. After placing my order, I stood there, proudly with my phone, and you just walked away. And honest to God, my brain didn’t know what to do. So thank you for coming over and teaching me how to scan my barcode. And then telling me I was free to go. And telling me where to stand to wait for my coffee. Like I had never been in a coffee shop before.
I appreciate your patience, and I’m sorry for the hand-holding I needed.
I’ll stop now, because if I don’t, I may very well go on forever. Because Mommy brain knows no boundaries and no one is safe from it’s broken ways.
And if you’re reading this, there’s a decent chance I owe you an apology too. So, for whatever it is that I did/didn’t do/said/forgot about/some other grievous error:
But it’s all Mommy Brain’s fault.