Yesterday I was sitting in my living room and Quinn was buzzing around my legs doing his little Quinn thing when he found my cell phone in the pocket of my cargo pants. Since the keys were locked and I figured it would keep him busy, I let him play with it. Then I totally forgot that I’d let him have it.
I never really believed in mommy-brain, but lately it seems that if I don’t write something down, it falls out of my head immediately. I’ll try to remember something on a short walk from my computer to my kitchen and then stand in the dining room, not only having forgotten my purpose, but also my destination.
Well, anyway, it’s somewhat of a miracle that I remembered that I forgot to get the phone back mere hours after having lost it. It’s lucky I didn’t forget until several days later when, not only would I have potentially missed a bunch of work calls, but the battery would have run out and we couldn’t have called it to locate it. Which is what I tried to do without much success. I vaguely heard a beep in the vicinity of the rocking chair, but it wasn’t a ring so I sort of dismissed it.
Apparently my version of mommy-brain doesn’t just include forgetfulness, but stupidity.
So later that night I enlisted Alex’s help to find it, which he couldn’t do. Then he used his cell phone to speed dial my phone and then hung up, exclaiming, “Someone answered your phone!” At this point, I was reallly starting to question my sanity wondering how in the hell the phone could have gotten into someone else’s hands. After a lot of “you talk to them,” “no, you talk to them,” Alex finally re-speed dialed. When the woman answered again he fairly accusatorily said, “Yeah, I think you have my wife’s cell phone.”
The woman on the other end of the line disagreed.
After a little bit of back and forth between them—and I can’t imagine what she thought about our call—she gave Alex her number, which is the same as mine, but for the area code. As Alex had dialed from his speed dial, we were certain that it must be my cell phone, so Alex tried again, and this time he heard the beeping in the living room.
His daddy-brain symptoms do not include quite as much stupidity as my mommy-brain, as he recognized it as an SOS from my phone, which was hiding under the chair cushion. Near as we can figure out about the speed dial, the lines must have gotten crossed or something. Can you imagine if your phone rang and someone randomly accused you of having stolen it? Hopefully, at the very least, we gave her a good story to tell.
You’d think I could let my toddler play with my cell phone, without it becoming a multi-family incident. Apparently not.