Suds in the brain

At first, I explained this as “new-mom” syndrome.  Can’t recall names of products, snapping fingers…just letting sentences die off and moving onto next subject.  Back then everyone helped you finish sentences, because simply looking at you in your state of dress, or lack of clothing, and hair sticking up or in a messy bun/pony…possibly half naked with breast pump in hand…or you’re chasing the toddler ready to launch himself into a somersault down the stairs…

No one expected you to be able to form complete sentences. You’re doing too many things.  It’s understandable.  But that excuse kinda goes out the window, when your kids are starting their teens.

Now, you do get a “freebie” because everyone in the family got used to you calling each other by different names.  That doesn’t go away.  My son especially loves when I refer to him as Ozo, our dog.  And Vice versa…(what, seriously, they act the same way, no wonder I get confused)…now he just answers.  It might be in the form of “argggh / uhhh” whine/grunt.. ( a primitive language I’m not fluent) but he acknowledges that I’m trying to talk to him while he flops around on the floor or couch or walks like that thing we see on tv.

However, yesterday…my husband started running the water to do that night’s dishes, and as he squeezed an empty bottle of Dawn, attempting to get out remnants, instead only little bubbles escaped and capered about,

“Hey, hon…there’s uh…uh.. more under the sink.  (continued squeezing sound)…there’s more uh..soap, washing stuff under the sink…detergent (squeezy-squeezy)…uh…uh…there’s more!”

For the love of god, I couldn’t remember the words, “Dish Washing Liquid” and he enjoyed listening to my struggle!  He did extra dry-squeezes on purpose, as with each squeeze, my voice went up a level in agitation, and a couple bubbles would escape and float.  And he never once helped me find the illusive words.  (jerk-face)

I suppose I get to use the “I’m a parent of a teenager” excuse now… you can’t expect much from me when I have to fight over whether or not my son is going to shower that day or my daughter will eat the dinner you made or who gets the living room tv, or explain the reason why we need to wear deodorant for the 100th time.  (or why we need to put some clothes on)

arghggh (I’m practicing my teenage son’s language)