Your Head A Splode

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I need an IEP.

No, honestly, I have developed ADHD. Ritalin would do me no good. More than that: my brain is gone. I am so scattered. I move from one thing to the next like a hummingbird. Or a three year-old.

Ok, it's getting so bad, I actually just spelled the "no" in the previous sentence K-N-O-W before I backspaced and re-typed it. Then I tried for a good 5 seconds to remember the name of the key that erases and goes back a space so I could mention it above. See? Gone, baby, gone.

I have this To-Do list at toodledo.com that I use to keep track of life in general. I categorize things I have to take care of or remember to do, and I can place them on my list well into the future, so I can remember now that I have to locate something for somebody before I pack up on the last week of school, and I won't have to think about it again until I get a cute little reminder at the top of my Toodledo list that says Rachel needs a copy of "Going on a Bear Hunt" for the summer Kindergarten program. But this list isn't keeping me sane anymore. It's a catalyst for more unfinished business.

I start one task and it leads me to another and another, until I have a mental chain of chores that are, at best, 1/4 completed.

So toodledo reminded me this morning that my grades are coming due, and I, uh, need to get on that. Like, yesterday. I start grading papers. Then I have to use my computer to enter the grades in my database gradebook. So of course I quickly check my personal email first and I read my daily stuff and answer a few things. Then I think if I'm checking my personal email I should probably check my school email. So I read through it all, and find that left in my inbox are emails regarding a pizza party that I'm in charge of arranging. Can't stand things hanging around my inbox. Can't justify removing these emails from my inbox until I take care of this project. So naturally I run around the school trying to find the flyer for the pizza place and scheduling the party and calling to order the pizzas now so we don't get bumped by other schools' parties later in June, and there went my prep period. Stack of papers on my desk, still ungraded. So glad my brain has priorities.

Here again: yesterday I learned that the medicine E has to be on while her heart heals (Enalipril, it's blood pressure related) has to be refrigerated when you buy the compounded kind, as we did. I've had it in her top dresser drawer for 3 days. Yay. I call the pharmacy and ask for a new compound to be made. I call Bob to ask him to pick it up while I take E to her pediatrician appointment, and place a giant yellow post-it note on my brain to remind myself to ask about this very important issue at said appointment. You know, "I have no idea how this affects her heart. Is this no big deal or did I just screw up her healing process by giving her ineffective medicine for 3 days?" At this appointment we go over a million things, since it's a post-op check, and Dr. Waxman and I have not talked much since our sweet Little Miss Project was admitted to duPont. He and her other regular doctor there, Dr. Blackman, have been worried, and Dr. Blackman comes in to see her too. Another reason I lovethis Advocare practice. I chat with her doctor: she's gained weight ( !!!) , what's her projected healing time like, what should we do in the meantime, how's the ng tube going, etc. Dr. W spends so much time with us and is so sweet to my daughter, and I walk out of there feeling great. I get E and I in the car and THEN I remember that I never told him that I'd screwed up her medicine and would he please tell me that that's ok (it is) and check her blood pressure?

I hauled baby and myself back in. He said shouldn't be a big deal, she looked fabulous today, and she'll be checked on Thursday at the cardiologist anyway. I walked out of there reassured but newly categorized by the receptionist as one of "those mommies".

See what I mean? Ask me about the elevator trip at duPont I have no memory of making! While we were visiting different departments doing pre-op stuff, I apparently had a mental black-out. I thought we were on the first floor and suddenly the nurse takes us back downstairs. No memory of going up. Actually wondered out loud how we got there. Must have been really reassuring to our nurse. My mind is gone.

And these annectodal pieces of evidence are just three in a long line of complete mental messes I've made lately. I'd give you more, but -

Ooh! Look! Something shiny!