Here's another installment of the stellar moments in our lives the past few weeks that we would rather forget...
1. I've been trying to organize/edit/send to print pictures the last week or so. Let's ignore the fact that I spent double the amount of time editing pictures of flowers than of my own kids.
2. Jake and I shopped at Sam's Club for supplies. I don't even want to mention the drive to church Sunday morning when I heard a thud in my trunk and realized I had forgotten to take out the 6 gallons of milk and 2 pounds of roast beef after getting home on Saturday. Wipe the slate clean on that memory. Also wipe the checkbook clean.
3. I went to bed by 10pm the other night because I was so exhausted. This is rare for me, but does happen. What doesn't normally happen is that Maddie yells for me so loudly that after her doing it for so long Mike came up from the basement to see why I was ignoring her. After attending Maddie he came in to our room and woke me up saying, "Are you okay?". Except he had to shake me awake. Twice. Apparently I had already easily forgotten about him and the kids because I fell back to sleep about two seconds later.
4. I would rather forget the moment in Joann's fabric store when I pulled on a roll of 54" decorator fabric to get a better look. That little tug resulted in the entire roll unwinding and falling all over the floor. I saw it happen in slow motion. Tracy rounded the corner just as the last bit landed at my feet. She, apparently, wanted to forget she knew me because she just started laughing, turned around and walked away.
5. Mike and I took the kids for a drive. We love to drive around. We love to torture our kids that way. As we were driving through Prior Lake - and more specifically, around Spring Lake I kept looking to my right and would see houses/land for sale. I kept saying, "Maybe we should buy that one." (I mean...we did buy a lottery ticket...it's just a matter of time). Then I said, squinting my eyes, "Wait...that house doesn't back up to the lake, right?" With a deadpan face Mike replied, "No. Because the lake is on the left." This was followed by a mumbled, "My personal compass." He'll never let me forget that I have no sense of direction.
Really, the more I look back the more I realize it isn't "our" moments that need to be erased from memory. They are my moments. I need to start paying better attention to the people around me.