MamaManagement

Over the years I have become a master in the art of notes. I make notes to myself in my phone, on sticky notes, in my calendar, on long lists, in writing notebooks and planning notebooks, and in my head. I leave notes for my kids in their lunch boxes. I write notes in cards and emails and text messages to my family and friends. I send reminder notes and favor notes and random thoughts to my husband when he's at work. I have note pads and note books and note apps galore. Lots of places and spaces to make notes to myself. Do this. Do that. Don't forget this. Remember that. And I love them. They give me a certain sense of security. They assuage my anxiety. Or, at least I thought they did. I mean, they did...until they didn't. Somewhere along the line my note making went from being a helpful habit to being something more akin to an addiction. But, as far as I know, there's no twelve step program for note making. So, I'm on my own with this one. Over the last

Oh my Lord, it's December, people! The month when my brain goes a mile a minute during all of the minutes. The season when I am forever remembering that I've forgotten something. (How is it even possible to be constantly in a state of both forgetting and remembering??? It's like having my feet in two different dimensions at the same time. In one version of reality I am remembering everything--Yay; in the another version I am forgetting everything--Boo. (I hope there's a third reality where I'm just napping and reading and drinking coffee.) Fifteen minutes ago, I checked out twice at Target because the first time I forgot a gift card-- the gift card that was my main purpose for going to Target in the first place...and this was my third trip to Target in the last seven days. (insert eye roll here-- Target you are a blessing and a curse.) But my brain did not just short circuit on December 1st, oh no. That happened on November 24th... We visited my in-laws f