Leave It To Me

I realize I am not the only person to forget things, make mistakes, screw up.

I just seem to do it a bit more regularly than most.

Truth be told, on an occasion or two, I am not as acute about the minor – and sometimes major – details of life as I should be.

Ok, I’ll admit: I am a teensy weensy bit of a scatterbrain.

(Family, please keep your laughter down…I can hear you guffawing from Istanbul.)

I would blame it on getting older but, truthfully, this is nothing new. I have been this way pretty much my entire life.

To exemplify:

A penchant for getting lost, I must have been the most recognized name at any grocery store in town due to the number of times my mother had management announce me over the intercom, asking me to please meet her at the customer service desk.

A similarly strong talent for forgetting things, during a 5th grade summer girl’s scout trip to Chicago, I left my purse in the Marshall Field’s dressing room.
Which I discovered halfway across Grant Park (a looong walk away from M.F.).
(But, after hoofing it back to M.F., my sweating, panting mother/chaperone in the lead, guess what? It was right where I had left it.)

This wouldn’t be so special had it been something that wasn’t repeated on practically every outing I ever took.

Like in 6th grade, when I left my purse with all my worldly savings (I wanted to feel rich when I hit the town) at the local movie theater. This time, the purse was gone.
(But the manager was so upset that someone had taken it – smoothing over the little issue of yours truly leaving the purse in the first place – he replaced the money!).

I don’t think my parents let me own a purse after that, at least not take it out without it being chained to my clothes.

Of course, a purse isn’t the only thing one can forget.

In 7th grade, I went to the regional, highly competitive, time-to-show-your-stuff band contest.

And forgot my flute at home.

And you would think that would have taught me a lesson.

It did.

At least until my high school band concert .

When I forgot my flute at home.

As you can see, I am capable of forgetting the most obvious items.

I once went on a family vacation to Nashville.

Without my clothes.

(Now this was heartbreaking as I had oh, so painstakingly, down to the socks, planned each day and evening’s outfit. Upside? Instant new wardrobe. After all, what else could my parents do? I had to wear something.)

You get the idea. Unfortunately, the above is only a sample of my sometimes lack of attention to details. An exceedingly small sliver of a sample.

I have a theory for my forgetfulness. I believe the reason for my being a person a bit more dispersing of her thoughts, ahem, could be due to my high level of brain activity. My mind is so incredibly busy, just teeming with thoughts and observations, that it’s just not possible for it to hold everything it needs to. As a result, some things slip.

(Family, I can still hear laughter.)

Despite this characteristic, I have always been a decent student, worker, and have even managed to raise two children without misplacing them.

(Okay, once I forgot a child at school, but that’s not too bad considering all the occasions I have had over the last 15 years to misplace a kid or two.)

I have overcompensated for my scatterbrainedness by super-sizing my efforts at organization. My planner is my Bible. Whoever invented it, I owe my next child to (but, as I am done with child-bearing, I will just have to say a big ‘THANK YOU!’).  Ditto for my iPhone. Email folders, binders, dividers, labels and post-its are my apostles. I plan and organize everything in my life – and anyone’s whose life is under my responsibility – as meticulously as possible.

Unfortunately, it’s not a full-proof system.

Because, despite my efforts to not relive my youthful transgressions, as an adult I have still managed to:

– Forget that parking meters need to be fed often. Which means it’s not a good idea to park in front of one in Chicago and then take off for a 3-day trip to your hometown to introduce your fiance to family and friends. Despite having to pay my ticket fines of $800, he still married me.

– Forget that I needed a passport to go on my honeymoon. In the Maldives. And realized this small fact just 3 days before departure. Yes, he still married me.

– Forget my Russian visa at home when we went to the Moscow airport to depart for our first trip home since moving to Russia.

Guess what? You can’t go into or out of Russia without your visa.
Guess what? I didn’t even know what my visa looked like.
Guess what? When I cleaned out my purse for the big trip, I threw my visa away.
Guess what? I never got around to dumping the stuff into the garbage can (I can also be a bit of a pack rat at times, too…which saved me because I somehow made it back to the house at breakneck speed, found the visa – a small, flimsy piece of paper; you think at least it would be larger and more official looking or even glued into one’s passport for Pete’s sake – and returned to the airport in time to catch the flight).

– Etc.

Suffice it to say, I am not unfamiliar with that feeling of panic in the pit of your stomach that hits when you realize you have messed up.

I just had hoped that it wouldn’t hit so soon in Istanbul.

Leave it to me.

To arrive to the airport to see my son off on his first ever athletic competition trip.

Without his residence visa.

Which apparently you need to travel.

In or out of the country.

All I can say is that it is a good thing that I undoubtedly have a slew of guardian angels watching over me because disaster was averted.

Yet again.

I hope guardian angels get overtime.