Think About It!

Over the years of raising children, my husband, Jim always used the term “think about it.” He used it as a warning when someone was arguing and about to make a rebuttal that might be rude. “Think about it!” He used it when the kids were doing a task and were not giving it the attention, it deserved. “think about it!” He used it often in the bleachers at hockey, basketball or volleyball games when the kids were in action. He would yell, “think about it!” and they would say after the game, that they heard the message loud and clear and it would help them to stop and focus on the task at hand. It was always the last words they heard when they were venturing out the door on a date or on a “night out” with friends. Mom would say, “Have fun and be safe,” and Dad would say “Think about it!” In that context it held many meanings, depending on what that night might hold for them.

Although I loved the phrase while the kids were growing up and think that it guided them through some times when thinking was especially required; I have grown to resent it, and the words make my blood pressure rise. Since the kids are no longer in our house and no longer need our warnings or wishes daily, I, for the last 15 years have been the lucky recipient of “think about it.” and what really ticks me, is that I know it is deserved.
Since many of my friends had experienced the ravages of menopause before I did, I knew it was going to be a tough time. I was ready for the horrific hot flashes and the nights of wondering the house unable to sleep. But I was entirely taken by surprise at the foggy head and the total inability to focus. I have moved directly from menopause to old age and I find this stage is quite similar! There was a time that I could mark English papers, make a meringue torte, feed hungry teenagers, answer the phone and make plans with someone on the other end, and do a moderately good job of all of that. I now have trouble with the basic routine of getting myself through the day without burning something, or losing something, or embarrassing myself over some menial, daily task.

Not long ago, I jumped into the van with my husband for a quick trip downtown. He had some errands and I had to dash into our local Credit Union to get some cash. We worked our way down one side of the street doing Jim’s pick-ups and then he pulled up in front of the Credit Union for me. I jumped out and headed in…..no line – Yeah! I got my cash and ran back out to the vehicle. I jumped in, noticing that there was a pile of magazines on the seat that weren’t there before. “Where in the hell did all of these come from? Why would you put them here?” I demanded, as I nestled into the front seat and reached for the seatbelt. Once I was comfortable, I looked over at Jim, but the driver was not Jim. This gentleman was looking at me with wide eyes and a look of “who are you and what are you doing?” I quickly apologized, fumbled with my seat belt and door handle and jumped out. I looked up to see Jim, one van over, cracking up with laughter. “Think about it, Patti.”

A while later we were on a winter holiday in Florida with some good friends. One morning as we were walking on the beach we came across a pelican caught in a fishing line and unable to fly. A kind surfer was trying to help the bird but the bird was frightened and wouldn’t cooperate. I felt sick and decided to head back into the hotel and call animal services to see what could be done.

Describing the incident to the women on the other end of the line I said, “We are on Cocoa Beach right beside the public pier and there is a penguin caught in a fishing line. Will you send someone out?”  She replied, “A penguin Ma’am, did you see the bird?”

“Yes, a penguin,” I replied, “I was right beside it.” 

“You saw a penguin caught in a fishing line?”

“Yes it can’t fly, we tried to help but it is suffering.”

There was a long pause on the line and once more she tried to clarify the complaint. “There is a penquin caught in a fishing line on Cocoa Beach and you have seen it.”

Finally, my mistake dawned on me. Again, my mouth and mind had chosen not to work together.   

“Not, a penguin, I’m sorry,” I said, “it was a pelican.”

I’m sure she was ready to send someone for pick-up all right, but I don’t think she was thinking of the bird.

I do it all the time. I say one word when I am thinking of another. I start a task and then wander off and begin something else. I blindly walk into a situation while my mind is somewhere else completely. My skill at multi-tasking has been reduced to a weakness even with single tasking.  I don’t focus on the task at hand, and disaster strikes. I now get to hear “Think about it, Patti,” Grrrrrrrrrrr!