I’ve always been a little absent-minded. Growing up I was something of a paradox: give me any list of information and I could memorize it verbatim in no time, but I nearly burned down my house on multiple occasions by leaving ovens, burners, space heaters and candles on for hours. Actually, I’m kind of a fire fighter’s worst nightmare. I once left my straightening iron on all day with a hand towel on top of it, which eventually sort of charred and melted at the same time.
I once locked my keys in the car, while it was running, at a gas station pump. I drew quite a crowd as I opened up the trunk of my little two-door hatchback and slither-climbed through the trunk, over the back seat, and into the driver’s seat. There was even a round of applause upon my successful retrieval of the keys.
Needless to say, I’m no stranger to making foolish and avoidable errors. When my kids were born my forgetfulness kicked into overdrive. Sleep deprivation and incessant noise, coupled with the fact that I’m naturally scatterbrained, resulted in many narrowly averted disasters.
There was the time when my youngest son was only a few weeks old and I forgot he was in the back seat of the car. My husband and I were shopping at a local nursery (plants, not babies!) and made it all the way to the building before realizing we’d forgotten our child. We played rock-paper-scissors to see who had to do the walk of shame back to the car in front of all the other patrons and retrieve our forgotten infant.
Given my impressive history of erratic and unreliable attention, it is with some combination of pride and embarrassment that I announce my greatest hair-brained move to date:
I recently lost an entire week.
I mean, I’m convinced I was conscious the whole time and probably even recall a few events that happened during that dark time, but somehow my brain just deleted it. Ordinarily this wouldn’t be a feat worthy of being honored with the title of my most harebrained screw-up of all time, except the week I lost was precisely between the day I finished my period and the day I ovulated.
Yeah, I bet you can see where this is going now.
My husband probably should have known better than to trust me when I said, “No, it’s fine. I just had my period”, but he didn’t. I think he was too busy sorting through his own feelings of shock and suspicion that the furry sex-barrier was down for the night. It is a Father’s Day treat he’ll never forget.
So this brings me back to the title of this little ditty. It turns out absent-mindedness can turn around and bite you in the uterus.
I will now be joining the courageous and ever-expanding list of women who are welcoming their surprise third child. Mine will be gracing us with his hungry, fussy, chubby adorableness in March 2015. Happy birthday Mary, have some contractions!
Will Baby #3 finally be my little girl or will I be further outmanned by the inevitable arrival of my hat trick of boys?
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