The Absent Minded Mama

“Where are those keys?” I mumbled to myself, rummaging around the kitchen. I was in a rush, a big hurry. The big plan for the day was for yard work, R had invited a young man in our community to come help for the day, allowing him to earn some money as well as be around someone who is a better influence than the pack of friends he has begun to hang out with. The beginning hopefully of a mentorship, giving him an outlet and someone he can be around who has made it, who knows there’s more to life than 8th grade drama. It was going to be a hot day and they’d need some Gatorade.

“I’ll go get it!” I’m sure I said a bit too enthusiastically. The prospect of getting outside the house by myself? Hello! Sign me up. Even if it’s to run an errand, I’ll take what I can get. Without the keys to my vehicle however it’d be tough. I knew I had to move quickly before the 3 year old caught on to my actions. Knowing the keys were probably randomly thrown in the diaper bag I grabbed R’s and headed out the door, figuring I’d do a full diaper bag dump when I got back.

Losing keys? Well, it happens to the best of us. True, some maybe more than others. Equally true, me, more than most. Possibly multiple times per day… maybe.

Awhile later R needed to run an errand as well, he needed a few things now that we have an actual yard that has actual work that needs done – like draining and cleaning and re-doing the disgusting pond that has been collecting grossness of all levels for the 2 years this place has sat dormant. A weed eater for the ahem “garden” (aka weed sanctuary), a wheelbarrow, and a few other things. Things that wouldn’t fit in the car.

“Tiff! WHERE  are the keys? I’m going to get frustrated looking for something that I have no clue where it is.”

I knew the kids and I had gotten groceries yesterday afternoon. I kept the car running since X was asleep and wanted to keep it as cool as possible getting him out and transferring him from the car to 100 degree heat to a cool house. I was sure I had it shut off when bringing in groceries. The car was unlocked, I never lock it from the doors (way too many calls to AAA for that to happen again). I searched the car. I searched the kitchen. I searched the kitchen drawers.

Mumbling to myself, “You HAVE to stop being so absent minded Tiff! Even with the fabulous excuse of two kids, one who’s a newborn, we must start being intentional about this stuff, it’s getting ridiculous.”

I searched through the plastic bags from the grocery store. I searched through the laundry basket of clean (at least they were clean!) clothes that sat by the counter the day before (no, they’re not folded yet). All to no avail.

Raymonn had gotten frustrated by this point and had already left in his car to get what he could. Why must I go through this almost every day? “It is just me?” I asked myself. “Where could those keys have gone?” I was scared they had fallen in the trash, the thought of going through that trash bag made me more than nauseous. I can’t even handle doing the really dirty dishes by hand without my stomach turning and walking away to go sweet talk my hubby. How could I do this? I shudder even now at the thought.

With X asleep, and P watching Pink Panda (Panther) I seized an opportunity for one last ditch effort before losing my dignity (and lunch) going through the trash. The three year old’s room. We’d had a busy day. She had “packed” to go “camping” dragging half of her room into the back yard while attempting to sweet talk me into setting up a massive tent her and her Daddy had purchased at a garage sale – all she needed was the instructions she assured me and she could set it up all by herself! She had packed her usual six purses for random “trips” throughout the day.

Quiet house, messy room, an opportunity to go digging and get it picked up… (usually I make her help, but I was on a mission, one that couldn’t be compromised by over eager ADD attention spans). I had asked her multiple times if she’d seen my keys at all, and had received multiple times a very sincere “no.” But still… what if?

Four purses into the clean sweep…

Vindication! It’s not me! It’s not my baby brain! YES!! Why I didn’t think to look here before I don’t know. Like I told R, this is our “money shot”, we should always pat down the three year old first. As I brought the purse out to grab the phone, wanting to document my success I hear coming from the couch, “Hey! My keys are in there!” Uh huh, and MINE too kid. It feels so good knowing maybe I’m not the Absent Minded Mama after all.

“Victory is mine!”- sayeth the tired Mama.

Now, off to find my phone…