Sunday Post 121: The Busy Vacation

It’s the first day of vacation.  We’re at the beach my entire family.  Every Tanner we could possibly find is here.

It’s nice to spend time with uncles and cousins that you don’t often see.

I have no idea what I’m going to do this week.  I have a book and signed up for the online version of our newspaper for six days.  I’ve been here less than four hours and have unloaded the car, unpacked the bags, read the newspaper in the sun, caught up with various family members, jogged and eaten dinner.  There’s still three more hours til bedtime and I’m out of stuff to do.

I can’t stop.  I simply don’t know how.  I think my kids may be developing my same habits.  How did it come to this?  Why can’t I just sit and read or watch TV?  Whoa, what if I just thought for a while?

I’m so used to laundry, work deadlines, carpools, straightening up –

I fear I’m teaching my girls the same thing.  When I come home and find them chilling, I quickly remind them of their homework assignments and the piano that’s sitting there with no potential musician sitting on its bench.  Michelle says “Dad, let’s cuddle.”  I say, “In a minute,” for the lawn has yet to be mowed this week.

That’s it.  This week I will cuddle!  I’ll cuddle until her heart’s content and read with her and watch Another Cinderella Story with my eyes open.  When I’m done with that, I think I’ll rest; ’cause there’s a lot to get done when I get back home.

Overload or Dementia?

I may be losing my mind.  I’m actually a bit scared.

I was driving up St. Mary’s Street recently and passed by one of DJ’s best friend’s house.  I looked at the house and could picture the girl who lived there, but her name escaped me.  I couldn’t come up with it – a kid that my daughter hangs out with a lot!  A kid I really like!

I glanced in the back seat at Michelle – “What’s the girl’s name that is DJ’s best friend at school?” I inquired in a panic.

“Kimmey?”, she asked as if I had just fallen out of a tree.

“Yea.  Yea.  Kimmey.”

She frowned.  I sped up.

Three days later, as I was trying to fall asleep, it popped in my head, You don’t know your pin number.  The four digit code I’d had since I was 16 was gone, lost in a cerebral brain fart.  I thought I’d remembered it and dozed on off.  The next day I realized I had not remembered.  I drove up to the ATM and punched in a series of four digits.  I was denied my cash.

I punched in a different code.  The machine scoffed. 

Time three and time four were no better.  I called the 800 number on the back of my debit card.  Apparently no one, including myself, knew that number.  It’s encoded in the strip on the card.  I held the card to my forehead – to no avail.  I was about to lose something that brought me much comfort.  It was like I had forgotten my child’s birthday.

What in the heck is going on?  Do I have a brain tumor?  Is early onslaught Alzheimer’s headed my way?  Hardening of the arteries?  A nervous breakdown?  I got no idea.

A friend suggested that maybe I was on overload.  Can that cause you to forget things that should be embedded into your brain?

I’ve been out-of-town some portion of every weekend since late May.  On Saturday, we got home at 11:30 pm from a great overnight at the lake.  On Sunday I taught Sunday School, mowed, edged, and blew the yard, cleaned out the gutters and swept off the roof, rode bikes with Michelle, took two to the pool, helped a friend move a table, shopped for groceries, cooked dinner for the extended family, knocked out four loads of clothes for the four-week summer camper, addressed six thank you notes for DJ and wrote two blog posts.  I snuggled with my girls and put them to bed.  Finally, I sat down and drank a beer.

As I was falling asleep, I remembered my pin. 

I guess I’m suffering from brain delay.  It’s all still in there, just going to take a few days to pull it out.

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