Becoming Forgetful at 30-Something? Impossible!

Three weeks ago I bought my brother and his fiancée a wedding gift. They’re more than a thousand miles away in England and due to the short notice, (1) I couldn’t afford to drag my finances all the way across the ocean, and (2) I’m not ready to take my son overseas for a crowded wedding affair when he could barely cope with visiting a family of three in Melbourne last June. You get that. And when you do you apologise and move on. Maybe some day we’ll go visit, huh?

But with the gift bought and ready to post, things got busy around here as I received the exciting news about my new job (same place, new job, more money and new skills). Quick, let’s wrap up those projects and say Bye-Bye to the old job. All this while trying to find a speech therapist for my Curly and trying to manage school holidays without him having a meltdown or getting bored.

One day Curly found the gift and card and opened the card, which I had not yet sealed. He wanted to draw in it because it had his name written inside. “Mine, it’s mine!”

So I grabbed it and put it somewhere he couldn’t find. He whinged and cried.

When it was time to post the wedding gift, could I even find it? Nope. I went all over the house in all the tight places, the car, under the couches, in the bookcases, in all the bags I’ve used since I bought it and even the bin – because I feared that maybe I had accidentally dumped it. The wedding came that week and the wedding went. No gift. I was really pissed off because I had written a masterpiece message from sister to brother, and even got The Scientist to write his piece from Curly and him. Heck if I remembered what I wrote!

I cried. The Scientist doesn’t know this. (Well, now he does, lol)

I hid a gift I bought my bro so my son won't want it. Heck if I know where it is now that it's time to post! Argh! Grrr! Ever happen to you?

— Silly Mummy (@silly_mummy) July 18, 2013

After returning to the office I searched every which and where (Tigger style), thinking it was in the office. That was the last place it could be. Nothing.

I cried. In the toilets. For a tiny minute. Or two. Maybe three. Who cares? I do, it’s my brother’s gift. Argh!

Anyway. I gave up. I went to the shops, again, on Friday 26 July and bought a new gift and card to post to England. I spent the same amount as before. And because I’ve been busy on Friday snuggling up to watch Oz the Great and Powerful but then passed out on the recliner as I was too tired from all the stress, I didn’t get a chance to write in the card. I’ll write at the post office tomorrow before posting.

So on Saturday 27 July, after my son’s swimming lesson (which had resumed after school started), I rushed to AusPost. I parked the car, said Ciao to the boys and then thought I should buy Curly a bigger pair of Goggles while at the shops. I reached inside the Louis Vuitton bag turned swimming bag to double-check the size of his current pair. I reached into each pocket and then… it happened:

The gift. It was there. The card. It was there also. The sons of bitches!

Then it came out: “For furrrrr…!” I stopped short because Curly was listening.

“For God’s sake. The gift was there this whole time?”

Am I getting forgetful? I cried, again. On the inside, then spontaneously decided to mail both gifts but with one card, the first one, with my masterpiece message.

Is it my age? Is 30-something supposed to be like this? Or is it stress?

Not funny! It’s not funny at all.

Rhonda C

Becoming Forgetful at 30-Something? Impossible!