Misery trumps memory

It's really really late, and I should be asleep, but I've wanted to write all day. Plus I'm addicted to your comments.

I felt so lame this morning. First, I ate ice cream three nights in a row despite my lactose intolerance. Misery upon misery. And then, because I've been so focused on overcoming the diarrhea in my house this week, I completely forgot that I invited a dear friend and her darling baby to come visit this morning.

So, I'm sitting with Boy #2, he with a bare bum on his brand new potty, me in my pajamas on the edge of the tub, and the doorbell rings. I yell to Boy #1, "Don't answer it! Look out the window and tell me who it is!" He does, and I hear him say my friend's name as the bell rings again.

I jump up, tell Boy #2 to stay put, tell Boy #1 he can answer the door, and greet my friend, hugging around the baby's carseat. She, noticing my pajamas, asks if it's the right day. And I stare blankly, then realize that she's not just stopping by for a spontaneous hello, but that we made plans two weeks before and I forgot to write it in my calendar (which I probably would have forgotten to look at even if I had written in it).

I spent the whole morning wondering how I could possibly think I could handle another baby, when I don't have enough brainpower or organization skills to remember a date made with a close friend.