I'd apologize to you directly if I could remember why you're mad

Last year, in May, I was suffering from a serious case of pregnancy brain (see here).  It was pretty severe in the forgetfulness department.

Vivian seems to have turned me into Jessica Simpson on top of making me forgetful.

I'm a pretty smart girl.  Really, I am.  That being said, since I have become pregnant this time I have made Tokyo its own country, said a restaurant was "international" because it is in both Texas and Colorado, and asked my boyfriend if the button on his truck that you push for towing was for "pulling a wagon" (because people pull so many wagons these days?)  I know there are others, but my memory is also totally wiped out.

I can't keep up with the fact that I need gas when there is a bright orange light glaring at me.  I've been all set to show up at multiple doctors appointments on the wrong days and times (despite the fact that I have them entered into two calenders with multiple reminders and that every office calls me two days in advance).

My mom picked the boys up yesterday because I had to go out of town and got back a little late.  I didn't pack her a single diaper or wipes or a bottle or any formula or baby food.  "Here they are.  You figure it out!"

So, why am I telling you about this?  Because maybe you asked me to do something and I said "sure!" and then didn't do it.  Or maybe you sent me a text message and it is marked as "read" but I never responded.  Or maybe I was supposed to give you something and it has never appeared.

I'm truly sorry.  I swear I'm not just being an ass.  I live in a 24/7 permanent fog.  And when I do finally have a moment of clarity and remember, "oh my God, I never did x, paid y, or responded to z", my face flames red, and I feel about an inch tall.  But even then, there is no guarantee that I'm going to get it done because the slightest distraction, and it's gone again.

So, if you are going through this with me, feel free to say, "hey dummy, we had plans. WTF?" or something similar.  I promise I won't be offended.  And I promise it always gets (slightly) better once the kid arrives.  So, hang in there!  I'm going to remember whatever you're hating me for eventually and apologize profusely and maybe even have Silas bake you cookies (because that is his new thing - he's a chef, and I don't really care for sugar cookies).