January 18 -- I just spent the last several days writing articles for the district newsletter I produce for our local school system. The kids finally went back to school today so I was able to write for even longer periods of time without interruption. The only time I stopped was when I got hungry (okay, that was a lot) or decided to change out of my pj's, or when the phone rang and I had to answer it. (I can never write very well while I am talking to somebody else.)
Needless to say, I have been doing a TON of writing. Lots and lots of words. Some of those words aren't that bad actually. So why is it, that if I can write to earn a living (okay, a small living, like enough to raise a family of say, one ant) -- why is it that when I start to speak out loud, I make no sense at all?
Put your shoes in the refrigerator, I have to go the ah, ah, umm, uhhh, oh...screw it! Turn off the newspaper. Brush your towel. It's like that non-stop, every day. Brian, God bless his soul, seems to understand my language and simply nods as though I am making complete sense. (Although, upon reflection, it's quite likely that he simply isn't listening to me at all.) Nonetheless, it's completely bizarre; the words slip out of my mouth and so many times, it barely registers that I am making absolutely no sense at all.
It wasn't always this way. I used to have an excellent memory! I actually have a reputation in my family for remembering things that happened way back when I was still in Mom's uterus. I guess the muck-ups in my verbal vocabulary started when I hit my 40's...the words, the kids, my life -- everything started to get all jumbled up.
It's kind of embarrassing actually. Like tonight, I was talking to Brian in the office. He mentioned that the lacrosse pancake breakfast was on Sunday. Oops. Suddenly, I remembered that I hadn't told Connor or Tessa that I had volunteered for them to help at the breakfast. So I called to them in the other room to tell them about the breakfast but as I yelled, somehow the word "festival" crept into my sub-conscious mind. Where it came from I have no idea; it was like an invasive seed falling and sprouting unseemly vines in a flower garden. When Connor answered, "what?!" I yelled back, "Hey! I volunteered you guys to work at the breastival on Sunday!!" The kids, who were watching tv, shouted, "okayyy!!" Brian said nothing. (Although I am nearly certain that I am correct with my theory -- I speak and his brain shuts down. Nearly 25 years of marriage and I finally figured that out. Impressive.) No. It was Luke who started to snicker in the next room. "What?" I asked him. "Mom," he said, laughing even louder now. "You said breastival! I'm sorry but that's like, helloooo, breastival? (more laughing, some gagging)... too funny! It's sooooo...omigod!" (Suddenly mute, he leans over in front of the computer, his shoulders shaking like jello.) I can only guess what image that word conjured up in my 17 year old son's mind. But yeah. Whatever. Everyone knew what I meant, didn't they?! Ughhh.
Like I said, it's embarrassing. I mean, I guess I could get really freaked about it and believe me, sometimes I do. After all, I do have a father with Alzheimer's. But I truly think it's a by-product from mixing a busy life with hormones. Normal midlife stuff, right?
Right. Except for the fact that tonight I realized that quite possibly, my 15 year old son might be showing signs of...his mother's word disease. I think so anyway. At dinner, he told us a story about what happened to him at school today during Earth Science. I guess he was with a group of boys, studying for his mid-term tomorrow. Suddenly, he realized he couldn't remember the definition for the word 'satellite.' Flipping madly through his notes, he found the entry. "URETHRA!!" he yelled, pumping his fist in the air. For a moment nobody spoke. Finally, one of the kids leaned over and whispered to Connor, "ummmm, you know that you mean 'eureka' right?!"
Yah. That's my boy :)
No comments:
Post a Comment