Mom or human calendar?


I recently asked my doctor whether the fact that I seem to be forgetting things more often was something to be concerned about.

The problem isn’t severe, but I just can’t seem to remember every little thing like I used to. I need more lists and reminders.

Middle age

My once steel trap mind is now more like a leaky strainer. Apparently, I have a pretty advanced case of middle age.

After the doctor reminded me that I am suffering a case of the being old, he also suggested that my forgetfulness is more a product of being a female parent than being old.

As a wife and mother, I am apparently in charge of remembering some 10,000 things including but not limited to appointments for the entire family, deadlines, telephone numbers, social security numbers, school-related passwords, and the location of everything that has ever crossed their paths, ever. No big deal.


I am also in charge of juggling calendars and remembering where we are supposed to be.

I will start weeks early telling Mr. Wonderful we have plans. I will remind him as the date approaches.

We have plans on Saturday the 15th at 7 p.m. I will tell him again on Monday prior, check in on Wednesday, and I swear to you with God as my witness on Friday the 14th or Saturday morning he will look at me and say, “Are we doing anything on Saturday the 15th?”

I then throw up my hands in exasperation. To this he says, “what?”

He has admitted that he doesn’t really bother to absorb the information about plans because he knows I will tell him again, and again. Then once more for good measure.

This is what I have become. A human calendar.


My extremely self-sufficient children (let me remind you the boy is an Eagle Scout y’all) will call me to ask what their social security numbers are.

Granted that’s not something they have had to memorize in the past. I am also the touchpoint for their allergies, immunization history, and stories behind their childhood photos and memories.

I think mothers and females as a whole are just wired differently.

I keep a running list of things to do, things to buy, things to cook, clean, and seek care for at all times. It is both a blessing and a curse.

In all this, a few things may slip through the cracks sometimes.

Mr. Wonderful, meanwhile, is an amazing partner and parent. He has his own strengths but remembering his children’s personal plans, shoe sizes, and yes, even their birthdays, isn’t it.

Nor is remembering dinner plans, wedding invitations and what we are doing next Tuesday. That’s all on me.

The upside of these differences is that he makes the absolute best person to share secrets with. Let’s be honest, he’s not going to remember anything long enough to spill it.


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Warm, witty and just a wee bit warped, Kymberly Foster Seabolt is a native of Kent, Ohio, who survived childhood exposure to disco and grew up to marry and move to the country. Her column weaves her special brand of humor with poignant, entertaining, and honest portrayals of parenting, marriage, and real life. She currently lives in northeastern Ohio with her husband, two children, two dogs, two cats, and numerous dust bunnies who wish to remain nameless.



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