I Need Self-Writing Post-It Notes

Are you a blogger?  Or even a scrapbooker or journaler?  And if you are, do you find yourself mentally bookmarking something that happened with intentions of writing it out later? 

Do you ever lose your mental bookmarks?

Because I do.  All the time.  Every single day.  I literally think of something or witness one of the kids doing/saying something at least once a day (generally more) that I want to be sure to post on the blog.

Yet I go days, weeks even, without posting.  All because my brain is in a permanent state of scrambled as I try to just keep up with my sweet peeps.

Which is what Anna insists I call her these days.  "I'm not yowr dah-lin, Mama, I'm yowr peep!"

It's those kinds of things I want to remember.  And this.

Joshua and I were curled up on the couch watching the television the other night.  I heard feet coming down the steps but was a bit absorbed in the show and just waited for the little voice to call out.  It never came.  I wasn't concerned because occasionally a child will come down the stairs to go potty rather than using their bathroom upstairs.  We've quit questioning this.  The kids are barely lucid enough to tell us what they're up to, and we've just learned that their little minds think of the downstairs potty first.

I know.  Whatever.

But as I was sitting there, engrossed in the television show, I realized that the squeak of the door I was listening for sounded very different.  I jumped up and ran, hollering at Joshua that somebody had just went out.

I zipped through the kitchen, into the laundry room, and out into the garage, slamming my hand against the switch to shed a little light on the situation.

There was Thomas, standing in the middle of our (clean!!!) garage, whimpering and holding himself.

"What's up, buddy?"

"Ijusneedagopoddy," he whined out as he desperately tried to orient himself.

"C'mon in here.  The potty is this way," I said as I guided him back in the house and to the bathroom.

Joshua and I waited until the door closed behind Thomas before we exchanged looks and tried to smother our giggles.

Thomas has zero recollection of the incident.

I know there are other things that I wanted to jot down before I lose them forever.  They might creep back up to the forefront of my mind.  Or not.

I'm trying chocolate therapy.  I'll let you know how that works out.