Pamela's column for Pacific Publishing April 2008
There are two kinds of people in this world, those who pay attention to things and those who don’t. And when I say ‘those who don’t’ I mean me. I don’t pay attention. If I’d been born into the age of ADHD, I’d have been diagnosed at birth.
“I’m sorry Mrs. Troeppl, but your daughter can’t focus enough to latch on to her bottle. I think she needs Ritalin”
“But…but…but she’s only two hours old!”
“Yep…worst case I’ve ever seen”
It hasn’t gotten any better. Coloring inside the lines of the pictures in my coloring books was never a problem, it was actually finishing any of the pictures. Mine were always half done. I’d forget I was roller skating at the roller rink and get run over by hordes of skaters because I was just standing there enjoying the sparkly lights shooting off of the mirror ball in the middle of the room.
I was once driving down the freeway lost in thought and heard a noise coming from the backseat. My heart started pounding out of my chest and my hands became sweaty on the steering wheel as I realized someone was in the car with me! I turned around to look, certain I was about to see some hideous car-jacking thug sitting in the backseat with a gun and noticed it was my two month old baby girl sitting in her car seat. Oh right! I had a baby now! Seems that had slipped my mind there for a few minutes.
Combine attention deficit disorder with a slight memory loss and turning on the television news each night to hear about the upcoming presidential election is an adventure each and every time. Osama who? Oh, Obama! And what’s that first lady doing? She’s not the first lady anymore…she’s what? She’s running for the presidency? Ooooh, right. And who’s that old white haired guy? McCain? What happened to Bush? He’s still there? Are you sure? Hmm. Ok.
Despite my attention deficit disorder, I think I’d be a better presidential candidate than most.
When that phone rings at 3 in the morning, I’ll be the one to answer it. Forget about Hillary or Obama and puhleese, McCain is out cold by 9 p.m. I’m the one that’s up and wide awake, not them. I don’t need caffeine, I have kids. I haven’t slept through the night since 1989. Obviously I’m the one best qualified to answer that phone and run this nation.
Qualifications you ask? What do I bring to the table? Well, food mostly. Iron Chef has nothing on me for creating successful meals on a shoe-string budget and feeding the masses. I could stretch fishes and loaves of bread longer than and have more leftovers than Rachel Ray ever dreamed possible. With the looming food shortages there is a need for someone like me in the White House. And I’m not saying that just so I can get free food for myself. I’m saying that because in the past 20 years I’ve made over 8,000 meals and I’m a little tired of cooking.
I can also pronounce the word nuclear. That alone gives me a leg up on some people.
I’ve often come under sniper fire from my teenagers. Oh sure, they don’t use real bullets but trust me when I say that if you get hit you’re going to know it. Learning to zig and zag, bob and weave, not to mention the fine art of playing dead are all skills I’ve mastered during my tour of parenting duty. My threat level assessment skills are top notch, although my color coding is somewhat different. The current Threat Level stands at Code Mauve.
Trust me when I say this nation needs cleaning up and I'm just the …I have….Hey look! Something shiny!
There are two kinds of people in this world, those who pay attention to things and those who don’t. And when I say ‘those who don’t’ I mean me. I don’t pay attention. If I’d been born into the age of ADHD, I’d have been diagnosed at birth.
“I’m sorry Mrs. Troeppl, but your daughter can’t focus enough to latch on to her bottle. I think she needs Ritalin”
“But…but…but she’s only two hours old!”
“Yep…worst case I’ve ever seen”
It hasn’t gotten any better. Coloring inside the lines of the pictures in my coloring books was never a problem, it was actually finishing any of the pictures. Mine were always half done. I’d forget I was roller skating at the roller rink and get run over by hordes of skaters because I was just standing there enjoying the sparkly lights shooting off of the mirror ball in the middle of the room.
I was once driving down the freeway lost in thought and heard a noise coming from the backseat. My heart started pounding out of my chest and my hands became sweaty on the steering wheel as I realized someone was in the car with me! I turned around to look, certain I was about to see some hideous car-jacking thug sitting in the backseat with a gun and noticed it was my two month old baby girl sitting in her car seat. Oh right! I had a baby now! Seems that had slipped my mind there for a few minutes.
Combine attention deficit disorder with a slight memory loss and turning on the television news each night to hear about the upcoming presidential election is an adventure each and every time. Osama who? Oh, Obama! And what’s that first lady doing? She’s not the first lady anymore…she’s what? She’s running for the presidency? Ooooh, right. And who’s that old white haired guy? McCain? What happened to Bush? He’s still there? Are you sure? Hmm. Ok.
Despite my attention deficit disorder, I think I’d be a better presidential candidate than most.
When that phone rings at 3 in the morning, I’ll be the one to answer it. Forget about Hillary or Obama and puhleese, McCain is out cold by 9 p.m. I’m the one that’s up and wide awake, not them. I don’t need caffeine, I have kids. I haven’t slept through the night since 1989. Obviously I’m the one best qualified to answer that phone and run this nation.
Qualifications you ask? What do I bring to the table? Well, food mostly. Iron Chef has nothing on me for creating successful meals on a shoe-string budget and feeding the masses. I could stretch fishes and loaves of bread longer than and have more leftovers than Rachel Ray ever dreamed possible. With the looming food shortages there is a need for someone like me in the White House. And I’m not saying that just so I can get free food for myself. I’m saying that because in the past 20 years I’ve made over 8,000 meals and I’m a little tired of cooking.
I can also pronounce the word nuclear. That alone gives me a leg up on some people.
I’ve often come under sniper fire from my teenagers. Oh sure, they don’t use real bullets but trust me when I say that if you get hit you’re going to know it. Learning to zig and zag, bob and weave, not to mention the fine art of playing dead are all skills I’ve mastered during my tour of parenting duty. My threat level assessment skills are top notch, although my color coding is somewhat different. The current Threat Level stands at Code Mauve.
Trust me when I say this nation needs cleaning up and I'm just the …I have….Hey look! Something shiny!
Pammy, you stand for president and I will vote for you. Except of course I don't have a vote in the USA. I have one here in the UK, but I ain't gonna use it cos none of the guys up for office stand for anything I want to happen.
ReplyDeleteBut Pammy, if you are the president, then I will sleep sound at night, especially what with your deep understanding of the world economic situataion and all!
Tom, you have a short memory. There was, I seem to remember, a woman who got to power spouting the same stuff about how she'd been a mother and housewife and that she'd manage the budget and the country along the same lines as running her household. Beware!
ReplyDeleteTommy dear, you know I'd make a great President.
ReplyDeleteRichard--you're comparing me to Margaret? I'm a blond. We're light years apart! :)