Because in general women have to multitask more than men, they get in more of a muddle. Men on the other hand base their superiority on the fact that they can walk and chew gum – but face it folks, that’s it. If you asked a bloke to walk, chew gum, do the washing, pay the bills, get the children to school, let the dogs out, feed the chickens, get coffee for the builders, assess the number of bricks required for a wall, write children’s party invitations, do a little work then they would be as dippy as I am and there’s science to back it up as well! I know ‘cos I read it in the newspaper in a brief moment of calm when my poor brain only had to read and drink rooisboch tea.
Basically the report, which I read in a four day old purloined Daily Telegraph (I haven’t got round to ordering my own yet from the village shop after nine years living here so I rely on pre-loved newspapers left on trains, the ground, round today’s fish and chips), says that the brain can only deal effectively with two things at once and as soon as you add a third task (3 tasks! heck most of us have to juggle a whole lot more than that) everything goes to pot.
So the fact that I forget things on a regular basis and am considered basically unhinged is because I am over loaded and never more was this prevalent than today.
We are on Day Three of the new school and Mother has had to get up a whole our earlier everyday just to keep up with herself. The journey to the school only takes 10 minutes longer but those precious ten minutes make a whole lot of change necessary. Whereas before Mother could drop Bog Boy off at nursery before school i.e. at 8am she now has to take Bog Boy with her on the hour and a quarter round trip because Nursery doesn’t take anyone in before 8am and The Boy has to be at his new school by 8.15am a whole quarter of an hour earlier than at the last place. Thus the school run has been brought forward by 25 minutes. I can deal with that, but I don’t know the roads very well, Bog Boy complains bitterly THE WHOLE WAY and of course I as yet don’t know the new school routines. There’s also the fact that I don’t actually know anyone there anyway. I don’t know a lot do I?
Added to all that and the mild anxiety that it all engenders The Boy wants to invite all his new class to his party on Saturday. I agreed and there lies the rub by doing this one task too many I got myself into a whole load of trouble.
I delivered The Boy and his invites to the school on time and in the correct manner. I chatted to some of the Mummies and thought I had made a good impression. I wandered off in a bit of a haze thinking about getting Bog Boy to nursery and dwelling on the fact that I would shortly have to cross the A140 at rush hour in order to do so. Everything seemed to go fine and I was about to celebrate my achievements with a nice cup of tea when I noticed that I had not given The Boy his pills. The Boy has Absence Seizures (Petit Mal) and although missing the pills wouldn’t be too bad it’s also not good especially if he has to go swimming. So I returned to the school to give him the missing pills and to leave a strip just in case I forgot again with Matron.
When I got to the school I met with The Boy’s new form teacher coming out of the staff room at break time and we laughed about forgetting things and joked. Just as she turned to leave she asked if I was alright.
Me, querying: Yes
Her: Just that I had a Mummy asking after you this morning.
Me getting worried: Oh, why?
Her: Well she said that when she asked how you were doing you said not desperately well and wandered off!
Me, slapping my hand to my mouth: Oh GOD! I have no idea why I said that in fact I can’t remember saying it at all!
I really can’t remember saying it. I have no recollection at all of saying it. I now will have to go up to a virtual stranger at picking up time and apologise in front of everyone else too. OOHHH the embarrassment! The ignominy! I shall be forever marked…ah well better that than being all scary and hyper organised!
