Why people with memory problems (shouldn't be allowed to shop by themselves)!

As I may or may not have mentioned, one of the medications I'm on for managing the pain from the compressed discs in my neck causes "reduced mental acuity . More or less, I forget stuff easily, I know I know something but can't remember it, I get pretty muddled sometimes and I get confused pretty easily.

This could also easily be confused with "Pregnant brain" or "Mommy brain" or "old age" but let me blame the medication, it's easier for me to cope (and subsequently forget about).

Some of you, who are closer to me, know that I've recently discovered I've purchased duplicates and triplicates of some things (rice, croutons, kid's snack foods, pasta) but I truly outdid myself this time.

With Christmas approaching, I've been unearthing all my Christmas stuff... Which I dutifully cataloged when I packed it up last year. I knew exactly what I had (and where, which is even a bigger miracle). Pinterest has led me to a plethora of new (and cooler) projects to tackle this year so back in early November, I took advantage of a 30% off coupon and shopped Michael's early on a Sunday morning.

Having raffled off all the Perfect Bows I've made in a fund raiser for TroublerMaker's old preschool, I knew I needed to make new bows for my banister  So... I picked a nice plaid, wired ribbon, identical to the previous bows (as I really liked it).

So today, as I finally unpacked all the stuff I bought nearly a month ago, I discovered the ribbon. And found the ribbon I packed last year... Then I found the other new spool I bought at Costco during our annual Christmas Shop in November to Avoid the Insanity of December.

How much plaid ribbon do I have? 100 yards. Which is 300 feet (91.4 metres).

That's a lot of ribbon. Plus I bought the gold and the pine cone for bows too.

So I've figured out my new business venture... Handmade Christmas bows in plaid or pine cone... ;)

This is why people with memory problems shouldn't be allowed to shop alone! This is also why I baked my husband cookies and made him promise to love me forever.

Packing up the past

This entry was written months before I started blogging… I found it today while cleaning up the drive on the laptop and wanted to share it.

March 21, 2010

I spent part of today weeding through the endless piles of clothes in my son’s room. He’ll be two in six days. I don’t know where the past two years have gone, but I know today, I packed up a lot of memories.

Like the “Trouble shirt” – it was a simple blue and white stripe T-shirt his grandmother brought him from a trip to the States. It wasn’t anything special or fancy – oddly enough, as I packed it up, I realized that the matching pants were the ones he was wearing (or more likely not wearing, having abandoned them for yet another newly discovered pair of swimming trunks). The t-shirt just reminded me of him last summer – camping in our little RV up in the Mountains. His bum firmly planted on a rock at the side of a majestic mountain lake, refusing to move until we took his photo. I love that shirt and the silly grin he made for the camera phone pictures I took (as we’d not brought our real cameras).

Or his “Bean Boots” (like Robeez shoes). He has three pair – one for 0 to 6 months, one for 6 to 12 months and the third and final pair being 12 to 18 months – he outgrew the last size a while back. I remember sliding his tiny, helpless feet into them the first time – with his matching Bean jacket – my beautiful and perfect son – I was so proud.

Then there were the receiving blankets. Seven of them – his Gran made them all. Brightly (and all too often “girly”) coloured soft and well worn flannelette. Memories tumbled around me like socks in the dryer – wrapping him up late at night, covering him as we dashed from car to store, the late night nursing sessions on our living room sofa.

And now as he runs through the house screeching “go outside” covered in chocolate pudding and wearing a pair of too big dinosaur swimming trunks, I think I’m OK with putting those memories to bed – after all, I’ve got many, many years of memories yet to come.