Details details.

I'm a detail girl. Honestly.

Overlooking some minor details goes with the territory and title of being a New Mom. As well as an Old Mom. I have issues sometimes finding the right word for things - things or people or places I can see in my head? Do not always translate into what flies out of my mouth.

For example, when someone asked me what J's ex-wife does, and I said, she works at a hospital in town, they asked (duh, the next question in line - but the one I was hoping they wouldn't ask) - what department?

Yeah, this is generally where the train goes off the rails.

I could see the office. I knew what they did there. My response to this query?

The Titty Fairy Office.

My mouth hung open too - I swear, that is not what I meant to say...only...I wasn't entirely sure what to say. For the very life of me, I couldn't recall (or perhaps find?) the words: Plastic Surgery. Gaping about as a fish out of water, we stared at each other, waiting for someone to say something. My laugh sounded hollow even to me.

Add to this auspicious I'm Becoming A Complete Moron list:

Totally forgetting the baby is on Miralax.

No I did not forget to put it into the bottles, or cereal and fruit, veggies, etc - I looked up the signs for cereal, peaches, pears, fruit, carrots....cow....c'mon, who doesn't need to know the sign for cow? Right. Okay. So I recall to feed the baby. That's well established; look at her fabulous cheeks - eating well is no secret in this house.

However.

(this is a big however)

I feed the remaining cereal to Pucker.

Yup.

This would be where one of those pesky details - like the freaking laxatives in the baby food along with bowel moving produce products - turns out to be rather important. The damn dog is so regular she hardly knows what to do with herself; she was pretty regular to begin with. Perhaps, as you might imagine, she hardly needs help on that end. I looked at it as a bonding thing with GiGi - see? Jealous of someone that sits in a chair that drops food constantly along with toys? Doggie heaven. Clean floors without my bending over? Better still.

Dog eating laxative infused poop-inducing baby food?

A nightmare.

Explains why some nights she cannot get through the night without either a potty break, or, some Surprise Poop. I'm starting to think it surprises even her. I've only taken a laxative once or twice, but I recall distinctly the Surprise part.

I've been lucky.

I still recall how J takes his coffee (iced, cream, sugar, huge cup, straw). I remember the diaper bag, though not always diapers. Or wipes. But I forget them at different times. I take the dog out, but forget the leash. (that one's a stretch, I know...I just hate the leash) I've run both the washer and the dishwasher without soap, walked into more rooms than I care to admit completely blank on why I am there.

Dressing GiGi to leave the house, in matching clothing, tights and shoes? Having her look so freaking cute no one pays attention to my lack of make-up?

Pfft.

It's all in the details.