She is always on my mind

I was warned well before Jillian was born that I would lose my “talking points.”
I would no longer be able to flit from topic to topic in conversation.
I’d be stuck on “well, you’ll never guess what my little one did today!”
I promised myself, no, not I.
I will come armed to every conversation with knowledge of at least one current event, and I vow never to use “poopy” or “binky” in a business setting.
Ok, so I come crawling to you corrected.
I’ve realized that slipping Jillian’s latest escapades into conversation isn’t just a habit – it’s a necessity.
The moment calls for a joke? Let me tell you about my methods to clean up my sailor mouth.
Jillian can now best any fine herr in the German navy. Her great-grandfather will be so proud!
Are we stuck on the weather? You know, it can be tough to dress your children appropriately when the temperature keeps jumping and dropping like it’s been.
It’s appropriate, I’d guess, that my daughter is at the top of my mind. I am, after all, her mother.
But I’ve found the root to the mother complex. While we love and adore our children (I mean, really, we are a species that can speak lovingly about teeny, tiny butt cheeks), our kid-centric communication has a much darker source.
With each “pee-pee on the potty,” I’m losing my ability to form a full sentence!
I can picture my brain clogged with post-it-notes, the stick-um starting to come un-stuck on some of the newer items.
“Lunch for Jillian, no tuna.” “Pick up milk.”
“Meeting at 10 a.m., Liberty”
“Jillian to pediatrician, Fri. 10:30.”
Which Friday? And how am I going to make it from Liberty to the pediatrician in half an hour?
I don’t need an organizer, I need a personal assistant – the human variety, not the digital “PDA.”
No Palm Pilot in the world could make sense of the mumbo jumbo in a mother’s brain.
We are the finders of lost stuffed bunnies and cutters of crusts off the ham sandwich.
Fathers do plenty, of course, and Jonathan is no slouch.
He asks about my day, and hears the list of new words in the Jillian vocabulary and the number of times she’s tried feeding the bran from her cereal to the dog.
Oh, and I did a few interviews today, wrote a column, took a few pictures – nothing major.
But did I tell you Jillian’s new way of counting?
Oh, it was the funniest thing.
At least, I think it was.
What was I saying again?

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