I Need to Fire My MML

My Mental Memory Librarian (aka MML) and I need to have a little chat.

Oh, don't know what a MML is? Well, that's the librarian in one's head that categorizes and files away memories. While mine does a fairly decent job at tucking bad memories away into my brain's slightly-over-filled Black Box, she's not so on-the-ball concerning those oft used and need-them-now rolodex of memories.

For instance, I cannot for the life of me remember my wedding anniversary, (Feb. 18) even though it is the day after my own birthday of February 17, I still write it down or verbatim it as February 19.

Another example is when the hub and I were at Children's Medical Center recently with our youngest for growth issues (she is the modern day Peter Pan) we were asked by the doc what her birth weight and length was; all eyes leveled at me.

Immediately I consulted my MML who promptly started flipping through the memory rolodex; was that under 'Births' or 'Girls Information Etc.'? (Came up empty) And don't even get me started on spelling my kids' names correctly, I can't count the times I've had to consult my husband on how to spell our daughter, Emma's, middle name.

"Is it with an 'e' or without?"

The hub, rolling his eyes, with that look of "what have I gotten myself into?" etched across his face replies, "Lynn. L-Y-N-N,"

"Thanks, dear!"

This whole MML issue really bothers me, because isn't it the job of a woman to remember everything? Aren't we supposed to be able to verbatim arguments with our husbands from ten years previous? The hub really gets the upper hand on those moments because he very well knows how horrendous my memory! But shouldn't I, at the very least, know every minuet piece of information about my own children, not just birth dates, weights and lengths, but locale of every mole, how many hair follicles are on the tops of their heads?

Why is it I can distinctly remember a conversation between two classmates seated three rows away from me in the third grade from twenty-plus years ago but not the more important things, like the year of my husband's birth?

"I can't remember dear, is it '68 or '69?"

With a sigh, the hub answers, "It's 1968, dear,"

"And what's your name again?"

"Oh, har-har,"

My mother pointed out a memory error from a piece I wrote a few months ago, "You know you got the name wrong in that column, don't you?"

I quickly consulted my MML, who gave a startled snort as she awoke from napping, and nearly fell out of her chair as she swooped down on my memory rolodex. It was still several minutes before that particular folder listing my grade school teachers was found. Meanwhile my mother is tapping her foot with a smug look on her face.

"Oh my gosh, I wrote Crawford, my kindergarten teacher, when I meant Fairbanks!"

My mother gave an all-too-telling smile; I've seen it numerous times, not just from her, but my husband and from friends. I can't remember friends' birthdays, when or how we met, what we may have done on various social gatherings; too often I have friends' telling stories of some silly thing we did in the past while crickets are chirping in my MML's office.

"You've got to remember that," Quips a friend over a seriously humorous transgression that transpired uncountable years ago.

"Um, no?" I would have consulted my MML but she was out to lunch.

On average I'm embarrassed over the situation, rather than worried but I am only in my thirties, should I be having these issues? I mean, don't get me wrong, I appreciate my MML's job at having solidly filed away memories I'd much rather forget: Parents' painful divorce, disastrous first boyfriends, and while I'm at it, a disastrous first marriage. But where, I ask, are the important memories being filed? I am about at the end of my rope and if (or should I say when) the day comes and I forget my own name or where I live, my MML is fired!

Originally published in the Daily Advocate Nov. 2007

Bethany J. Royer-DeLong wants it to be well known that no MMLs were harmed in the writing of this story, but the hub was heavily consulted for exact dates, name spellings and other important information the MML simply couldn't handle. You can visit her at motherofthemunchkins.blogspot.com and email her at broyerdelong@yahoo.com