My brain is completely scrambled, and it’s a completely new and uncomfortable feeling. I’ve always had the mind of a well-organized day planner, no matter how far ahead or insignificant the event, I could always remember exactly what needed to be done. Even after I had kids.

I’ve had to, more so after I got married. My husband, brilliant guy that he is, has the short-term memory of a distracted squirrel. He can lose focus from the task at hand with a then tiniest bit of something shiny. Which has led to keys left in locks, wallets left on car roofs (and scattered all around the county), stove tops on, car trunks and fridge doors left gaping open, pant flies unzipped, appointments missed, the list goes on. So I became the de facto Memory Person. And frankly, with two kids in two different schools, both with everything that goes along with said schools, my memory imploded in a way that has never happened before.

So far in the past two weeks, I’ve repeatedly forgotten to give checks to E’s morning school, forgotten to pack lunches, repeatedly forgot the dates of several appointment for both kids (luckily caught them before I missed them), forgot early dismissal days, and paid my car payment twice this month. To some people, that might sound like a normal month, but being the walking day planner for two forgetful children and one forgetful adult, lately my brain feels like like it’s trying to catch butterflies with a tuna net. It’s incredibly frustrating. And now my kitchen cabinets are papered with school reminders and other notes, in the vague hopes that I won’t forget anything major. You know, like Thanksgiving.

Who the hell does the housecleaning around here? This place is absolutely filthy! The cobwebs, the sheeted furniture, burnholes in the flooring and empty beers cans, not to mention whatever THAT is in the corner (pokes fearfully).

It’s been almost three years since I wrote anything on this site. THREE YEARS. That’s almost the entire lifespan of my smallest princeling. Poor kid, second child through and through. Mommy documents each fart the oldest one has ever made , and you’re left scrabbling for a measly 140 characters on Twitter.

I kid, buddy. Your farts are adorable. Also room-clearing.

I can’t believe I’ve put fingers to keyboard for NoNoBloMe as I like to think of myself as free spirited and anti-establishment (no I don’t, it just sounds better than lazy and procrastinating, but hey THREE YEARS of procrastination is a mighty fine accomplishment. Somebody ought to give out a medal for that. Email me.) but I miss the writing outlet, and Facebook just ain’t cutting it.

So here I am. Rusty, older, more tired, achier, and more full of mini Mounds bars and fart jokes (being the only woman in the house will do that to you. The fart jokes part, I mean. Ok, and the other stuff). I’m going to try and clean the place up a bit, I’m packing in all archives and starting fresh. However, as I fully expect, I’ll probably get huffy and distracted and tired of picking the cobwebs out of my hair (see lazy and procrastining, re: me, above) and will have to find a way to pay someone else to do it for me. Taughnee, I’m looking at you.  I barely know my way around anymore. Is ExpressionEngine still a good thing? What are all the cool kids using these days? Don’t say Tumblr.

Anyway, whee! A post! Three years! Let’s see if I can actually do this for a month.