When I came across the article on the Daily Telegraph website, about 'mumnesia', I was reminded of a few events, which took place in my own life, when I was a younger mother.
The first incident that came to mind took place when I was 8 months pregnant, with my second son. I went into a busy craft shop, with my mother, and we looked through several packets of wool, in a bargain basket. We left the shop without buying anything, but we walked past another 4 shops in the same road, before I realised that I had left the shop with a whole packet of wool tucked under my arm! Panic-stricken, I ran back into the shop and thrust the wool back into the basket. I ran out again, as fast as I possibly could, in my condition, before anyone could make sense of what I had done and give chase!
Only a few days later, I handed over some things I wanted to buy, at the till, in the local newsagent. 'And what about the magazine?' asked the shop assistant.
'What magazine?' I asked, rather bewildered by her question.
'The magazine under your arm!' she replied, somewhat sharply.
One Saturday afternoon, when my middle son was just a couple of weeks old, my husband and I decided that we needed to go into town to do some shopping. I was last out of the house. I slammed the front door behind me and joined my husband in the car. He started the engine, but as he drove onto the road, I realised that we had forgotten something. 'We've forgotten the baby!' I exclaimed. We had left him, in his pram, sleeping in the cool sitting room, at the front of the house, because it was a really hot day. When we pulled up, back on the drive again, we realised that neither of us had brought a front door key and it took my husband 40 minutes to break in, by forcing open the patio doors, at the rear of the house. Fortunately, middle son slept through all of the activity.
After the birth of my third son, I went through a phase of confusing days, dates and times for quite a while, as I remember.
My youngest son was a few months old when a friend rang to ask me, politely, why I wasn't at her house, for a cup of tea and a chat, as we had arranged. I told her that I wasn't supposed to be there until the following day, but, when I checked the calendar, I was stunned to see that she was right!
One Saturday afternoon, not long after that, I asked my husband to take my eldest son to another child's birthday party, but they very quickly returned, my husband somewhat crossly explaining that they'd arrived a week too early! I was so relieved that I hadn't taken eldest son to the party myself!
On another occasion, the whole family was due to go to the dentist and my husband had taken the day off work, especially. We were running a little late and burst into the reception area, at the surgery, in the same way that we tended to enter any room in those days, with the 3 little gremlins who bore an uncanny resemblance to our 3 young sons. The grim reaper manning the reception desk checked the appointment book and, then, to my dismay, began going back through the pages. 'You should have been here yesterday!' she said disapprovingly, glaring over the top of her spectacles.
Another afternoon, I turned up at my local salon (Ooh! Sounds a bit posh! ) to have my legs waxed and was told that I should have been there in the morning. I was positive that the salon had made the mistake, until I arrived home and checked the calendar. I had been so certain that I had the correct appointment time fixed firmly in my mind, that I hadn't even bothered to check the calendar on that particular day.
I think the most embarrassing mistake I ever made, however, was when a going away party had been organised for a family living in our road, because they were emigrating to America. It was a whole family affair, so we all set off down the road, on the appointed evening, dressed in our party clothes. A fair amount of organisation had been necessary in preparing for the event, as I had cooked some food, and the boys were still quite young, so a fair amount of effort had to go into dressing them up, in appropriate party clothes, and keeping them clean and out of mischief etc.
My husband and I each carried a plate of food, whilst the boys chattered excitedly, as we reached the house. We rang the doorbell and waited. My neighbour opened the door and was quite suddenly overwhelmed with laughter, as soon as she caught sight of us. Eventually, she was able to gasp 'The party was last night! We all wondered where you were, but were too polite to come over and ask. We assumed that something must have cropped up to stop you coming along.'
It was months before I could greet my neighbours, without them laughing helplessly at the thought of me turning up for the party 24 hours too late. I don't think I ever lived it down, but at least most of them have moved away, now!
It is fair to say that I still forget things sometimes and I may very occasionally confuse times and dates, but not as consistently as when my sons were young, I don't think. Nowadays, I have 'blonde moments', even though I am not a natural blonde, and, in a few years time, no doubt, I will qualify for 'senior moments'.
How about you? Have you/do you suffer from mumnesia? Do you suffer from it, even though you are not a mum? What sort of 'moments' do you have?
A good bit of gossip
13 hours ago