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Science backs this up, so it must be true.

Apparently, mothers literally lose their minds because of their babies. Here’s an article all about it: Gretchen’s Vindication

I’ve had two momnesia moments today. The first was when Aidan told me she wanted a roast beef, cheddar cheese, mayonnaise, and mustard sandwich in her lunch. I said sure. 30 SECONDS LATER I made a peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich. She said, “Who is that for?” When I told her it belonged to her, silly, she looked at me like I had a dozen eyes.

This afternoon, I ran to Target to get diapers for Beatrix. After, I had to pick up Aidan from her school and the boys from their schools. We got home, unloaded the groceries, and I realized I couldn’t find the diapers. I angrily searched the car and found many other interesting things, but no diapers. I dug the receipt out of my purse for the phone number, dialed and spoke to a young man who said they didn’t have any diapers, but if I said I left them and had a receipt, they’d take care of me.

I hung up, stewing that I had to go out again because a bare-butted Bea is not an option. I got ready to gather my things when I noticed a pack of Size 4 Pampers Cruisers sitting on the piano with the mail on top of it. I had opened the letter on top when we walked through the door.

I brought the diapers into the house. Somehow, in the three minutes between bringing the diapers into the house and calling Target, I forgot all about them. Momnesia!

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Speaking of shopping, a Chicago-area mom is in serious trouble for leaving her sleeping 2-year-old daughter in the car while she walked 30 FEET to put change in a Salvation Army Christmas bucket. The news story can be found here: Woman accused of endangering child

When she drove up to the Wal-Mart entrance, her 2-year-old daughter was asleep. Rather than wake her up and risk falling on the icy pavement with the child in her arms, Coyne left her in her car seat, locked the car and walked about 30 feet away to a Salvation Army bell ringer’s bucket with the other three kids, the defense said.

A minute or two later as she and the kids walked back to the car, a community service officer from Crestwood was standing there and told her she was under arrest for child endangerment.

The statute in her town states that children under 14 must be in the parent’s sight at all times. The mom faces serious consequences:

If found guilty, Coyne faces up to a year in jail and a $2,500 fine, a Cook County state’s attorney spokesman said.

Even if she is found innocent, she has to work to have her record with Family Services erased. Because of the “endangerment” incident, they have a file on her family now and have visited them several times to check on the welfare of the children.

I have left my kids in our locked car to return a grocery cart to the corral 30 feet away. Usually, I try to park next to it, but those spots aren’t always available. This is a circumstance moms and dads deal with every day—and depending on who is watching you can be in serious trouble. I won’t send Aidan, who is almost 11, into a grocery store to get bread while I wait in the car with sleeping kids because I am afraid some pucker-mouthed busy body will think she is being neglected. I remember going into stores for my mom all the time. I loved it. I was proud of doing something grown-up and helpful.

Those days are gone.

Do you leave your kids in the car to return carts? Do you leave your children under the age of 14 home alone (Shannon recently wrote a post on this issue and had a ton of responses)? If you’re unlucky enough to live in Crestwood, Illinois, you are a criminal. I’m sure other cities have similar statutes.

Do you have momnesia? Do you endanger your children by being 30 feet away from them in public? Have you ever developed momnesia WHILE returning a grocery cart?

Fine!

Updating on Sam the Frog Prince.

It was the first question I asked anyone after school: how did it go, Sam?

“Fine!” he stated, like I just asked the most inane, no-brainer question ever.

He got a 3. On the critique sheet, his teacher noted he had good voice, eye contact, pacing, and he engaged the audience.

Yay!

Mind’s eye

I’ve thought about him all morning, dressed like a Jolly Green Giant, but not jolly nor giant.

Sam is the Frog Prince in a class play this morning.

“I’m so nervous.” He looked grim as we prepared for the day.

“You will do great! You will have so much fun! No reason to worry!” I enthused as I helped him pull his blue coat over his green shirt, specially chosen for it’s amphibian hue. He wore green sweat pants and a green hat as well.

We got in the car and I drove the boys to school. Sam was silent.

I pulled up to the curb and said goodbye. Ryley was in the school before Sam pulled on the latch to get out.

“I am worried about it!” he wailed.

“Do you want me to say a prayer for you?”

“No.”

He got out, struggling with his backpack and his brown grocery bag filled with Frog Prince props, including an elephant. I don’t remember the elephant part of the story. He slammed the door and walked toward the building, head down.

I am nervous for him, not because I don’t think he will be the best Frog Prince ever. If he can pull his nerves together and bind them long enough to get through his lines, he’ll bring down the house (comprised of 18 second-graders). If not?

He’ll have five hard minutes, then the next play will start and he’ll go back to his desk to watch. He might wipe his nose on his sleeve and scratch his neck on the right side, below his ear. He could put his head down on the desk for a minute, rocking his forehead from side to side. A little drool might dribble out, which he’ll wipe with a green cuff. The play will end and he’ll look up and clap, not knowing his forehead is red from the desk. His legs will be crossed under his seat, at his ankles. He didn’t wear his boots, so it will feel comfortable.

Then, lunch. He’ll smile, joining his buddies at the Peanut Free table in the cafeteria. The rest of the day will unfold, too. I can’t picture everything his day will bring.

But I can picture him.