Do you believe that as we age, we lose a certain amount of knowledge with every passing day, month, year, decade, etc.? I’ve read several articles eluding to just that and here lately, I’m beginning to wonder if there’s some truth to these findings. I haven’t quite figured out what’s going on just yet, but some days I feel as though I’m actually getting dumber.
I’ll be having a conversation and I can see the word I want to use for just a split second and then, poof, it’s gone and I have to pause for a moment to try and recover it from somewhere deep in the recesses of my somewhat rather large head. You’d think that having a head as big as mine is, there’d be plenty of room in there to adequately store all these words in some sort of organized way so they may be retrieved when needed. No such luck for this gal.
Honestly though, there are times when I seriously debate whether or not I’m actually losing brain cells, or just misplacing them, as the years keep passing by. I mean, I always thought that you’re supposed to get smarter with age, wiser. I’ve really been wracking my brain about this over the last few weeks because my condition just seems to be getting worse with every passing day.
I’ve joked around for years now that Aricept is in my future. For those of you that don’t know, Aricept is a drug that helps to slow the development of Alzheimer’s. While I don’t believe I have early onset Alzheimer’s or some form of dementia, I just know there’s gotta be a reason for all this forgetfulness!
I’ve had an unhealthy relationship with Post It notes pretty much my entire adult life just to keep me on track and remind me of the little things that I just can’t seem to keep straight. You know: what to grab before I leave the house in the morning, where I placed an item that I’ll be needing later in the day, what I need to do for someone before I go to bed, etc. That’s not so bad, right?
Oh, and one of the best examples of my ability to possibly be the world’s most scatter brained, yet educated woman occurred shortly after I started college. This story will undoubtedly be told long after I’m dead and gone. And please bear in mind that during this period in my life, I was a married, full time, adult college student, working two jobs, and raising two boys, one just starting kindergarten and the other in second grade. Neither of my boys rode the bus at this point, either, so to say that mornings were hectic at my house would be a gross understatement. Looking back, I have a feeling this might’ve led to my forgetfulness at the time.
Trying, in vain, I might add, to get all three of us up and ready for school, was at times, some of the most difficult days of all of my years being a Mother. It never failed, my youngest son was an early riser, so he was always up, ready and raring to go at the crack of dawn. And he was always so happy. He’d greet me every morning with a smile and a big hug and kiss. I sure do miss those good morning kisses. While my other son could have slept through a nuclear attack outside his bedroom window without ever even rolling over. And he was the devil incarnate! Talk about someone who’s not a morning person! Wow. Looking back, it’s a miracle we ever made it through any of those early school mornings.
Anyway, my morning had to start with coffee before I was able to function. Until the caffeine hits the synapses, I’m completely useless as a human being. So, I get about three sips of my coffee, while getting the kids dressed, fed, teeth brushed, getting myself fed, dressed, folding clothes that were in the dryer, re-loading the dryer, starting another load of laundry, putting dishes away, taking out the garbage, studying again for another yet another anatomy test, making beds, returning an important phone call, cleaning up spilled milk, assisting with tying shoes, packing lunches, making sure stray toys hadn’t found their way into back packs or jackets. You know, just the usual morning stuff that every Mama has to go through. Wait. What? You mean all Mama’s don’t do this every morning? Seriously? Hmmmm.
Somewhere in the midst of all the insanity and chaos that was taking place all around me, it occurred to me that I had only had just enough caffeine to tickle and tease my senses. I could still smell the coffee lingering in the air, but for the life of me, I could not locate my cup! I searched everywhere! I’ll bet I made fifty trips up and down the steps in our apartment looking in every room, on every counter, dresser, and nightstand. I knew I’d actually had a cup of coffee that morning. I could still taste the last sip I’d taken.
I tried to retrace my steps to locate my missing java, but it was GONE! Completely vanished into thin air. I started asking the kids if they’d hid it from me as a joke, I was asking myself if I’d hid it from me as a joke. This was getting serious. I literally thought I was losing my mind that morning.
Just when I was ready to just wave the white flag of defeat and crawl back under the covers, I happened to glance over at the microwave. And wouldn’t ya know it. There sat my coffee mug inside the microwave where I had put it earlier to warm it back up. I had to just laugh. I laughed until I was crying because I felt like I might just truly be losing my mind. My kids laughed with me, (not at me, of course), and then we headed off to school and work.
I’ve never actually lost my coffee again since then, but I have brewed countless pots of hot water and even recently made a big ol piping hot pot of nothing. I remembered the coffee, but forgot the water.
I’ve always said that it’s a good thing I’m cute, ’cause God knows there’s gotta be a trade off for Mountain Man to keep me around. For while I consider myself to be very intelligent and well read, these days my conversational skills just aren’t up to par. I’m blaming multitasking and stressful parenting for all my forgetfulness.
I’m hoping that this too shall pass.
If not, let’s hope I stay cute for a long, long time!