We all find ourselves doing it, walking through doorways and forgetting what we were doing, stopping in the middle of one task and starting another, then never completing either. It wasn’t as bad when I had one child, but with each additional child it’s turned from Mom ADD to occasional full-blown Momnesia. Momnesia is when you sit down to do one thing, and forget absolutely everything else because you are so tired. Luckily it’s rare, its cousin Mom ADD, however, is more insidious and has to be constantly guarded against.
Mom ADD is when you are loading the washing machine, so you can’t get your four year old gold fish crackers the very second he asks, breaking his heart and causing instant death by starvation even though breakfast was less than two hours ago. You tell him to go play and you’ll get them in a minute, and just then the baby starts crying. Not the “I’m lonely, is anyone there, come love me” cry, the “I am not going to stop until you meet my physical needs RIGHT NOW!” cry. You drop everything and rush to your masters, er, babies demands, pick him up and change his diaper on the couch and are cuddling him when someone knocks at the door. This is very upsetting, as people aren’t supposed to knock on your door, the lack of welcome mat and fifty bajillion children toys blocking your walk way serving as both proof and barricade.
It’s your sister, because she couldn’t get you on the phone (because your kids handily disassembled it into four separate pieces and scattered them through your house like keys to saving the universe) and wanted to know if you’re working the next day. While answering the door, the dog gets out, so you call her to heel while you talk and then put the dog on her runner, and when you walk back in the door realize now is a good time to fish out all those toys she has lost under the couch, while she’s not there to try to climb under the couch. The last time it almost cost you a vet visit and her a broken paw. Luckily you caught the couch on your shin and got away with only a massive bruise and a little bit of blood.
So you put the baby in the swing, grab a broom and flip over your couch to sweep under it only to realize there are SPIDERS under the couch where you and the kids nap. So you go get bug spray, and start spraying, which requires drying time and cleaning, and during that period you realize that the cover on the electrical outlet behind the couch is loose so you go grab your screw driver and tighten it up, and during this whole process realize the children have been hording their clothing under and in the couch and it’s cushions. There’s enough clothing to dress all the mannequins in the kids department of Target. So you grab a basket to get the clothes the kids put under the couch and between the cushions, flip and sweep under the other couch, and put the basket of laundry from under and in the couch cushions on the dining table. Then you clean the spider webs and bug spray out from under your couches, Lysol the couch, say a prayer for their little spidery souls, and flip the couches back over. Since you bought heavy duty furniture your six children hopefully cant destroy, you decide to count this as your work out for the day, and valiantly try not to sit it down too hard lest you wake your husband who is sleeping off another night on third shift.
As you put up the spray and the screw driver in their respective cabinets in the laundry room you realize you never started the washer, so you return to the living room and go to grab the basket of clothes off the dining table. As you are reaching for said basket you do a head count to make certain no one has climbed out a window or infiltrated the bedroom to wake their father, only to see that the two year old has stripped off his diaper, and is prancing about, proud as a prince in his birthday suit. So you change him on the couch, right next to where you left the pile you’d just swept from under it, and start cleaning through the mess. In the pile are several toys, both of the dog and the children, a book you’ve been looking for for a week, socks that missed the first round of laundry pick up, and two forks. You try to figure out how they made it all the way from the dining table, and that reminds you that you never got the four year old the gold fish crackers he asked for and that you said you’d get him after you finished getting the laundry started. So you go get the goldfish crackers and start to give him a bowl at the dining table when realize the laundry from under the couch is still on the table and that you never started the washer. You take the forks to the sink and the laundry to the washer and FINALLY get that load of clothes started.
At which point you are so exhausted that you sit down and write all this up before turning around to go through the pile of dog toys, etc, that you swept out from under the couch, and figure out what else you have left half done. Except the timer goes off, it’s time to let the dog back in.