I’ve heard of pregnancy brain, but having never been pregnant myself, I could never quite relate. Until foster care.
During our first placement of three siblings, Jonathan and I both completely lost our minds.
Jonathan routinely left for work without his laptop.
I paid for dry cleaning and then walked out without the clothes. Three times in a row.
We flew to Colorado to celebrate our anniversary, but left the keys to the cabin on our kitchen counter in St Louis.
Luckily the little bit of sense left in us was used to remember that we forgot everything. And that we needed to just expect that to keep happening.
This maximized humility and minimized blame shifting.
There was no use in pointing fingers since that inevitably only multiplied the pain of the original mistake. At that point, we were both trying to cut our losses.
One memorable day in particular, Nick was home sick. Apparently he’d eaten “12 gluten-free pieces of construction paper.”
He went to the bathroom, but as he came back Jonathan didn’t hear a flush. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Nick or frankly, many little boys, to not flush. So Jonathan encouraged him to go back and flush.
Nick replied that he couldn’t. That the toilet didn’t work. Jonathan was a bit suspicious, but decided to check for himself. Sure enough, the water wasn’t running.
He texted me and asked if I knew why. We both decided it was the construction down the street. My finger was on the send button to a neighborhood-wide email asking if others were experiencing the outage, and then we paused. And remembered.
We’d lost our minds. We forgot everything. We hadn’t paid the water bill.