The Marble Slab

I understand July 2 was National I Forgot Day. Goodness! Is it so prevalent that we’ve made a holiday for it? 

Possibly it was begun by an individual with ADHD, or even the spouse of that individual.

If so I can relate. Spouses often become frustrated with the “I forgot” syndrome. It seems as if the mysterious “I forgot” can show up frequently in our lives and disrupt a myriad of good intentions. Good old “I forgot” is somehow kinfolk to “Ineffective” and “Unreliable.”

Of course, I did not have this depth of wisdom when Husband and I were ready to shop for our first apartment.  That was before I knew persons with ADHD will often avoid doing things that require much effort or consistency because they are afraid of failure.  I didn’t know about memory issues and problems.

As I recall it was about four weeks before our wedding day. Four weeks!

“Honey, don’t you think we should start looking for an apartment?”, I lovingly cooed at him.

“What’s the hurry? We still have a month.” He was serious.

“Let’s make appointments with some people to go look,” I suggested.

He unenthusiastically agreed to it, and we made plans for him to pick me up on a Tuesday at 10:30 am, so we could begin.

The time came and went. At 11:30 I phoned his house, where his Mother answered. “He’s just now getting out of bed. Did he have an appointment with you?”

“We have a couple of appointments to look at apartments. He was suppose to be here an hour ago.”  I’m certain she heard the frustration creep into my voice.

“He’ll be there soon,” she promised.

I don’t know what his Mother said to him, but thirty minutes later he pulled into the driveway.

“Here I am,” he said a bit too eagerly.

I still hear myself mumbling under my breath.

It did not occur to me that he had little or no control over his forgetfulness. I do remember when we did find an apartment, we were unable to take possession until four days after the wedding because we waited so late to secure one.

We stayed ay my brother’s apartment two of those days.

My new Mother-in-law asked, “How is it working for you, staying at your brother’s apartment?” I think this was her way of approaching the topic.

 “It’s OK. It was nice of him to move over to Mom and Dad’s house for a couple of days. Of course, he is closer to her cooking and the comforts over there.”

“You don’t appear to be happy about this,” Mother-in-law was rather astute. “How many other things did my son fail to do before the wedding?”

The words rolled out of me. I didn’t mean to begin complaining, but I think it was how I sounded.

“The thing is, I don’t think he meant to disappoint me, but he is always making excuses for not getting things done.”

Today I laugh at that comment because not a whole lot has changed in that department.

“I tell you; you can’t always wait for him to get the ball rolling. You can’t make innuendos with him. It has to be direct and let him know you are serious.”

I followed every word, and she watched my face  to make certain I did.

“This is how to do it,” she continued. “Get yourself a large piece of marble about this size.” She gestured a piece about 12 inches long and four inches thick.

I thought she was serious.

“Chisel what you want him to know or remember across the top it,” she said as she mimed it.

Then pick it up like this, and WHAM! Smack him between the eyes with it!”

We both hollered with laughter. In the days before I ever dreamed about such prescriptions as Mindfulness Meditation or concepts such as  neuroplasticity, Mother-in-law shared her own approach to his forgetfulness.

In other words, she told me to make certain I clearly let him know my expectations. “Don’t put him in a position to disappoint you.”   

I  loved her for sharing this wisdom.

Grandmother's Dish Soap

Grandmother’s Dish Soap

“I really wish your Great-grandmother Lutz had lived to see you grown-up,”  I told Oldest Daughter this week.

“Why?” she asked with a smile. She probably guessed what I was going to say.

“I think she would have been pleased with how much you resemble her in attitude, actions, and even in body build.”

"Oh, yeah. I could have a long talk with her about the size of my butt. Thanks, Grandma.”

"You’re Dad’s Grandmother was a lovely woman with a strong business sense and a no-nonsense attitude toward life. I very much admired her.”

"Oh, well, I liked Grandma, and I remember as a small child being curious as to why she never slept with a pillow. I kept trying to bring her one when she spent the night with us. She said she never slept with it. I thought that part of her was weird. Now that I am older, I would likely say. ‘No, shit, Grandma?”

“And your most-proper, lady-like Grandmother would speak sternly about your language. She did not like for her grandchildren to talk crudely, even though Grandpa Lutz and her daughters did.”

Husband interjected at this point. “Yes, she would tell you to get her bottle of dish soap, and she would wash your mouth out with soap.”

Oldest Daughter quickly caught his message. “How many times did you have to get the soap, Dad?”

“Once was all it took, thank you very much.”

“Did it make you sick?”

“Hell, I mean heck yes. It made me sick. It only took one time for her to use soap on me.”

“Did she squirt it in your mouth? That would make me vomit.”

“No, she squirt it on a dishcloth and brushed my teeth with it. Then she told me to rinse my mouth. It tasted nasty, and yes it did make me a bit sick. She had warned me, though. She said she would do it if she heard me swear one more time.”

“Why did you do it again, then? Didn’t you believe her?”

“I forgot. You know my ADHD impulsiveness and forgetfulness. I was caught in the moment. I just didn’t remember until I heard her call my name and tell me to go get the dish soap.”

“Isn’t 17 a bit old for your Grandmother to wash your mouth with soap?”

“I was only six or seven, smartie.”

I could see the wheels turning behind Oldest Daughter’s eyes. She couldn’t imagine my own Mother doing such a thing, and she couldn’t image me allowing her to do so.

Laughingly she asked, “What did your Mother do? Did she actually allow her Mother to wash your teeth with dish soap?”

“Mom would never correct Grandma Lutz. She just sat there and laughed at me. She was afraid to say much because she knew where I had learned those words. She might have been afraid she would be next.”

I knew that part was likely true. Grandmother would not have washed Betty’s mouth with soap, but mentally I saw her stern gaze and heard her firm tone. I imagine she would have said, “Betty! He only talks that way because he’s heard the same word come out of your mouth.”

We do not approve of Grandmother’s method in today’s world, but it was effective. Without medication or complimentary interventions, she quickly instilled in her grandson a motivation to remember and catch control his behavior when he was in her presence.

Husband still respects her memory, only praises her graciousness, and admires her business acumen. I don’t think the dish soap hurt him in any manner. And in fact, I have heard him tell the story so often , I rather think he views it as funny.