I was trying to make several lists that may potentially help me to pack everyone up for the weekend and to acquire the groceries I need from the Trader Joe’s (where I intend to attempt go tomorrow for my second try this week — maybe this time we’ll make it out to the car before something (ahem…LIAM’STEMPERTANTRUM…ahem) or someone (ahem…PAIGENEEDSTOEATRIGHTNOW…ahem) keeps me from actually completing a task on my list).
After getting locked out of the computer for typing the wrong password (which has been the same since the computer was first password protected, approximately a year ago) multiple times (and then almost doing it again all in the span of 5 minutes), putting the computer down to hold Paige while Matt went upstairs to make her third bottle of the past 1.5 hours, trying to pretend that I’m paying attention to the episode of 30 Rock that Matt is so excited to be watching while feeding Paige, and using Liam’s rubber dinosaur tail to open an impossibly sealed bottle of infant Mylicon — I realized why it is virtually impossible for me to finish anything anymore: I can’t even keep it together long enough to make the list that is absolutely necessary for my ability to complete a task without forgetting something very important. (Did anyone else notice that that last sentence went on for an entire paragraph and spanned comma splices, a colon, and a couple of dashes thrown in for good measure…?) That is when the following statement came out of my mouth, in all sincerity:
“See! This is why I can’t get anything done. I don’t have a train of thought anymore. I have bumper cars of thought. They just keep bouncing off of each other and they never connect!”
Bumper cars of thought, people.
This is where parenthood takes you. You’ve been warned.
And now back to those lists…if I can find them…
I love your bumper car analogy. What a hoot!