Well, it hit me like a blast of air conditioning on a summer day in Texas -- I have lost all sense of focus.

The realization came last week after I dropped 5-year old Dylan off at school. As usual, I'm frantic to deliver him on time and have everything together for my morning run. Small aside: Why does it feel like I'm playing Beat the Clock every single morning? (That's for another blog)

I occasionally see other women putting on lipstick or mascara at a stoplight. That is level of put-togetherness to which I can only aspire.

With you, my friends, I readily admit: I left the house with no deodorant and barefoot. I chuck neccessities in the passenger's side to be used when I could actually stop my morning dash.  I arrive at a nearby park, elated to get on with my portion of the morning. I grab my water, watch, put on my socks and deodorant and tie my ... UH OH! I've left my SHOES at home? Damn.

When did I completely lose sight of these important details? 

Perhaps it began when Dylan was in the womb -- when I squeaked mouselike past my vision test for a Texas driver's license only by the grace of a sympathetic Department of Motor Vehicle employee.   I was about 5 months along, and she mentioned hormonal changes can impact your vision, but as I've learned on-line, that should return to normal after giving birth.

HA!

After baby comes, your vision is FOREVER altered. In my pre-mom days, I was the queen of near-sightedness -- able to take care of the immediate with ease. I got a shower daily, I multitasked at work, I managed myself just fine, thank you.

Now I'm married to-do lists or else face the consequences of running barefoot.

I also have to tell you, I'm equally lost in the far-sighted category. I long for the teenage days when looking ahead meant what to wear on Friday night.

Now I am the living example of the "sandwich generation" -- raising my 5-year old while trying to help my parents, long distance, as my dad recovers from double knee surgery. He's still having balance issues, and we're trying to figure out why. He's started medication that might help him, but the outcome won't be clear for a couple of weeks.

My ability to wait mirrors my 5-year-old's desire to eat green beans before Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream.

So I look to the future that is at times uncertain. This leaves me wincing like some 90-year old trying to parallel park for the umpteenth time. 

But what can I do? I tell myself to stay patient with factors I can't control and force myself to focus on what I can.  

Perhaps I will remember my shoes tomorrow morning.