Sara Plays House

Mommy Brain?  Oh yeah.  I’ll show you Mommy Brain.  For your consideration–

The girls and I make a run to the grocery to pick up a couple things I managed to forget on my FIRST trip that week.  Armed with my list and my coupons, we pick out a car cart(because that’s just how we roll) and the girls start steering me around the store.  We managed to make it through with only one trip backwards to grab the bacon and OOOOOH! Chicken is on sale so we stock up.

And then we make it up to the cashier where Zoe proceeds to bang on the little card reader thingie and Avery chats it up with the cashier.  “My name is Avery, this is my sister Zo.  I’m just shopping with my Mom.  We got a CAR CART!”  Everything is rung up, and I reach into my enormous bag to grab my sassy green wallet.

It’s not there.

Do you want to know why it’s not there?  It’s not there because I had to renew my Ten Club membership that day, which required my wallet to be near a computer.  I knew, KNEW I would leave it by the laptop.  I even said OUT LOUD to myself–”This needs to get back into my bag ASAP.”  And then Avery was all, “Mommy I need to finish my gaaaaaaaame!” and I got distracted with that.  After I pried her away from her game, I thought to myself again, “I should go downstairs and grab my wallet.  Like, now.”  And then Zoe was all, “Shoooooooooooooooes!  ON!”  When she knows we’re going somewhere, she is REALLY ready to go.  So I got busy with that, and then we were out the door.

Sigh.

So after turning beet red and convincing the cashier that I would really be back in ten minutes for all my junk, I gathered up the girls and headed back home to retrieve my wayward wallet.  All the while, Avery’s asking me why we left her watermelon in the cart.

So you see–underneath my calm, cool, collected “I Got My You-Know-What Together” exterior, there lurks a total scatterbrain.  I keep it hidden well.  I will share with you now that this is at least the SECOND time I have left the house without my wallet since I became a mother of two.  For a good eighteen months, I could blame it on pregnancy hormones.  No more!  This womb is retired!  I have no one to blame but myself.  And Pearl Jam, I guess.  Or maybe those pesky children distracting me at crucial moments.  Yeah.  That’s it!  These girls are always plotting against me.  Underneath that veil of cuteness, they’re secretly planning ways to make their mother look like a total moron.

Look at her.  She’s totally thinking about what she can make me forget next.