My sofa is like a box of chocolates. . .

You never know what you're gonna find!

Let me just say, having kids is not for flaky people.

In fact, my husband's little swimmers could have thought of that before they barged in the door of my eggs. "Oh, no. It's HER! Look, we can't do this. It's not right. Have you seen her? This woman is a basket case. She rages around her place trying to find her glasses, her purse, pens, whatever was in her hand two minutes earlier. If she has kids, she'll never find anything ever again! This might well drive her over the edge." But did they stop? Did they give one single thought to my mental well-being?? Huh? Huh?! Of course not. They just charged on in. Twice. That's now THREE people in the house who have the put-things-in-random-places gene. Now finding anything is hopeless.


My mom (or my husband, or anyone who knows me well) will tell you that I can't find things because I wander around the house with something in my hand, put it down, forget where I put it, and only remember it when I want it later. They will tell you I simply don't put things back where they belong. Yeah, yeah. All I'm sayin' is that kids haven't helped matters.

The thing is that, before kids, I could usually go back in my head and think of when I had it last and run a mental image, "I was brushing my hair, the phone rang, I wandered around while talking, went to get myself something to drink, sat on the couch, oh, yeah. . .my brush is in the kitchen!"

I would say, 98 percent of the time, this worked for me. Only two percent of the time, did I go tearing through the house like a lunatic, completely unable to recall where something was, while getting angrier and angrier (and usually running later and later), until I began to foam at the mouth, half-convinced someone broke into my house, hid my keys and left.

I really have gotten better. I have a place for my keys. The kids can't reach it. That's where I put my keys, most of the time. However, it's a one-step-forward, two-steps-back kind of thing.

Lots of things still go missing. For example, the cordless telephone. I'll have a chat, leave it on the coffee table. In the past, it stayed on the coffee table until Seven found it and put it back on the charger. Sometimes he still has to do that. Sometimes I actually put it back myself.

Other times it ends up in the couch cushions. . .right next to the remote control, missing puzzle pieces, popcorn kernels, missing toy cars, one-legged Power Rangers, barrettes, my hair brush, coins, crumbs, pens and a multitude of other things I'm trying to find.

I put things in random places, yes, but I can trace my steps. It's harder to trace my kids' steps or even their logic. Why again is the rice scoop under the couch cushion?