Forget me not.

Not too long ago some close friends of ours were blessed with a handsome baby boy. Being their first child their lives are full of all kinds of adjustments. One night I arrived on their doorstep with supper in hand. Coming from experience, I knew that meals are always appreciated. So as we shared a few words right inside of their front door I mentioned something and they both looked at one another and burst out laughing that they had forgotten all about it. I snickered to myself and said to both of them "ahhh, welcome to the land of parenthood, you from this day forward will forget almost everything!"

Some days I think I do pretty good. I remember the most important things and keep my kids alive and partially clean. I tend to forget things people mention to me like "hey, I'll drop by on Sunday" or "can you bring me the _____" or "Does this day for this thing work for you" If I reply yes, chances are I am lying.

But I will admit yesterday was a particularly difficult day. I am feeling overwhelmed a lot lately and can't seem to get it together. It's amazing how stress clouds your head. Mornings are particularly bad as I am not a morning person, nor will I ever be. But, Monday morning it was, I was getting breakfasts, getting Joseph to get dressed for school and brush his teeth, daycare kids were coming in the door, Trent & daycare boy were wanting to go downstairs to play, Joseph was getting ready to head out the door to catch his bus, toques were being looked for, backpacks were being assessed for proper school items and lunch. Just about then is when I heard Addie on the monitor rousing in her crib. I run upstairs and get her, change her diaper and put some clothes on her. Come back downstairs, get Joseph out the door, get daycare kids organized and their weekly drop off of belongings stashed (if not the two 1 year olds will have them strewn about in random pieces in no time flat). Before I know it Addie and daycare boy are wanting to come downstairs and play. Sure. Down we head.
Unbeknownst to me come lunch time Addie is shoving food in faster than water would spew if the gates to the Hoover Dam were to let loose. That is when it dawns on me.... What did Addie have for breakfast??? Oh right. NOTHING!! Shit. What kind of Mother am I???

I resolve to myself to try harder, be more organized and get things done. Put all things on our colour coded calendar.

So, Tuesday rolls around and daycare Dad walks in and gives me preschoolers backpack "Here is his bag for preschool and his costume is in there."

HUH?? Costume?? For what???

Oh for crying out loud it's Halloween Day at preschool. Thank goodness when digging around the other day I found a spider man costume that Trent has glommed on to. "Uhh ya, we'll just throw this in your backpack Trent and you can be spider man this year OK???" Thankfully, he was good with that.

If I show up at Christmas with a orange pumpkin bucket and yell "trick or treat" just go with it.

Colour blind with love

As long as I have known Big Daddy he has been a manly man. He is the type of guy who doesn't care if his clothes match or if his house is clean and won't eat vegetables because they are too girly. But to share one of his deep dark secrets, Big Daddy has a favorite blanket. Not ONLY does he have a favorite blanket it is pink. OK, let me clarify. I along with most of the world would call it pink. But Big Daddy being the manly man he thinks he is says it's purple. I guess purple isn't quite as girly as pink. But really, lets be realistic and call a spade a spade a light purplish colour is just as girly as pink.

Anyways, this 'blanket' resided on our bed for many years until Big Daddy bought me a duvet. I guess it never dawned on him that in getting a duvet that the pink blanket would become retired. But being the quilt of the God's it is we can't ever get rid of it, so in a closet it resides for occasions when it is needed. Like when someone is riding the couch with illness or a bed gets peed in and the original quilt is in the wash.

Night before last Joseph's bedding needed to be washed. I am not the best at laundry as it is and plus well, I have three kids, I forget stuff. Thus, when bedtime rolled around Joseph's bedding was still in the washing machine. Good thing I have extras! So I made up his bed and yanked out Big Daddy's old tattered pink quilt. When Big Daddy saw his eyes lit up with a sparkle and they were full of love...so much so that I think if it were me and the kids or the pink quilt, the quilt has a good chance of winning. As Joseph got out of the shower, dried off and in his pj's he strolls into his bedroom, spots the pink quilt and does a manly arm pump with a loud "woohoo I get the PINK blanket!". What is it with men and this pink quilt? Joseph was very excited. Big Daddy, not so much. He was quick to inform Joseph that the blanket was purple and not pink. However, Joseph with a disgusted look on his face was just a quick to tell Big Daddy "Dad, I REALLY think you need to learn your colours because this blanket is PINK!" while snuggling down under and absorbing its very being. Big Daddy...defeated by an almost seven year old.

I told Big Daddy that we really should preserve the quilt in good condition that way I can put it in his coffin with him. Oddly, he seemed very pleased with that idea. So in 70 years please don't ask me why Big Daddy has a pink blanket in there with him.