Everyone Needs a Glove Guy

At the candy store I have a glove guy. Every two Monday’s he texts “need gloves?” If we do need gloves, I respond with the sizes we are low on. On Tuesday morning, he drops them off and leaves an invoice. I don’t know his name, and I usually have to look at the invoice to remember the name of the company I need to write the check out to. I love my glove guy. It is the easiest relationship I currently have going.

You know what else I need though? I need a toilet paper guy. Because I usually forget to check. There is inevitably a point in my family’s life every couple of months, that we have to tap into our napkin supply… unless I forget to buy those too. Then it’s paper towels. So far we have not had to resort to socks. If we do, I may die of shame.

It’s not just paper goods I struggle with. I could use a names and faces guy, a bills guy, a car keys guy.. I truly may hold the record at my bank for the most debit cards replaced by a single customer.

A few years back I spent an entire day celebrating Lilly’s birthday with her, only to be reminded by my mother-in-law that evening that her birthday wasn’t until the next day. I didn’t tell Lilly. I wasn’t about to do the whole thing twice. I wish I could say this is the only time I mixed up birth dates for my kids. It’s happened on at least two other occasions (that I can remember).

This “forgetfulness” is a part of my personality I used to see as endearing. But the older I get, the more it feels like hinderance instead of charm. It doesn’t help that my mental load has increased over the last few years. Running a business, a household, the lives of four kids would not be easy for the most organized of people. For me, at times it feels impossible.

People get a kick out of my spaciness. My employees think it’s hilarious when I walk around in a bustle, busy getting things done but never quite completing one task before moving onto another. I often tell them “don’t let me forget…” before instantly forgetting and moving on to the next thing. They have resorted to leaving notes taped to my computer screen… which actually works quite well. More than one employee has jokingly offered to be my personal assistant, with the sole task of remembering important details for me. My kids probably like it less, but they still giggle at me when they have to repeat themselves.

It’s amusing to be this way, yes. But it is terribly inconvenient when it comes to functionality. My little personality quirk is by no means unique. But while mentally overloaded, forgetful ladies is common and adorable, I worry about how it makes me look to the rest of the world. A lot.

One of my biggest human fears is that people see me as unintelligent. Or worse, incapable. I am neither of these things. But when I try to buy movie tickets from an ATM, mistaking it as a movie kiosk, while my friends look on from their car (true story), I am worried that people wonder about my mental faculties. I am on Facebook. I am on Instagram. Sometimes it seems like everyone else has it together besides me. I know we all put our best foot forward on social media. But it’s hard not to think I’m the only one struggling with the disorganization that is life.

I don’t have a solution to this. I have systems in place. I write endless notes and lists. Google Calendar is my best friend. I have a mental checklist of things to do before I leave the house in the morning. All of these systems help. But despite my best efforts, things inevitably slip through the cracks. I will always be a person who forgets to respond to texts, who misses appointments, who still needs directions to houses I have been to a dozen times.

Hopefully at some point my mental load will decrease. And I can get the crazy bees in my head to settle into some sort of organization. But I will always be who I am. Forgetful, spacey, random, kind, empathetic… so I will just lean into the things I excel at. I am a problem solver. I am a capable woman. I am a hard worker. And a lover of people. I mean, all you have to do is say hi to me, and you become my friend. You become a person I would do anything for. Even if I do forget your name. You are already in my mental rolodex of people I care about.

When it comes down to it, I would take being a lover of people over functionally organized any day. I accept who I am. I hate it at times. But my goodness, I could be worse.

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