While filling up Max's water bottle this morning (because Heaven forbid we go without a water bottle these days), I asked him if we wanted ice in it this time, as he told me yesterday that he would like that. He said yes, and then asked me, "How do you remember so much?"
Oh, my child, how do I not remember is the real question.
I am a master at swimming in the details. I am to do lists on paper and in the task bar of my online calendar, organized by date or the general "some day." I am iPhone reminders. I am emails to myself with subject lines like "dry cleaning" and "tissues" and "glucose tabs" and "bus note." I am writing on my hand when it's ultra important and likely to be forgotten. I am remembering the thing many haven't even thought about yet.
It's not about being a mom, or even an adult, it's simply who I am. And while I admit that at times, the details threaten to drown me, most of the time, they keep me happy, safely floating along the surface.
"I remember," I told him, "because you said it'll make you super duper happy to have totally freezing water after recess, and I want to help make you super duper happy if I can. I can't get you everything you might ask for in life, but I can get you some ice cubes." And he smiled and thanked me, and asked for sliced cups of peaches for snack some time, and so I went to the store and got those too.
Ice cubes, and sliced peaches, and kipah clips, and a dessert for a party, and a present for the baby shower, and signing up for fall conferences, and the work project you didn't even ask me for yet, and staying up til you get home, just to spend a few moments together. These are the things I remember.