The Deterioration of my Dorfenbergerthalamus

You know how They say that you can’t change someone?  They are So Wrong.  Maybe They just meant you can’t change men.  Or that you can’t make someone change for the better.  I don’t know.  All I’m saying is that I am changing, and it is not intentional or voluntary on my part.

I have included this graph as a visual aid.

I am not very mathematical, so if you have any critiques, just shut up.

Note that before I got married, I was a very timely person.  In fact, I was often way more than 15 minutes early for any event.  I do not like to be late.  There is a scientific reason for this. Apparently I was born with a Dorfenbergerthalamus, a minute but powerful portion of my brain that regulates my timeliness.  The closer I get to the expected time of lift-off for any event, the more I sweat and nervously move my right leg up and down.  You don’t want to be around me during the + or – 5 minute range, trust me.  After -5 minutes, you’ll be fine – because I’ll be dead.

Now, Cap’n Firepants was not born with a Dorfenbergerthalamus, so he does not feel any sense of urgency to be on time for any event, no matter how important.  It is only because my Dorfenbergerthalamus went into overdrive on the day of our wedding and my bridesmaids thought it prudent to kidnap him and haul him to the church an hour before the service that he was on time for that momentous occasion.

Note that, after the wedding, my cushion of time went down.  This did not happen voluntarily.  It is a result of something you young ‘uns and stubborn politicians need to learn about called COMPROMISE.  Actually, in the teaching profession we call it ACCOMMODATION.  This is what we do for people who are lacking in certain areas – such as Cap’n Firepants missing his Dorfenbergerthalamus. To accommodate for his handicap, I learned to deal with squealing up to the event just in the nick of time – just as Cap’n Firepants learned to deal with me snapping at him nervously during the entire interminable car ride.

Once we had Dimples, things changed even more.  I don’t know if it was hormones, or what, but my Dorfenbergerthalamus went a little haywire.  Added to its abhorrence of being late was a new fear of being too early.  Because when you have a one-year old, you don’t want to have to spend any more time than you need to ANYWHERE.  So, the calculations got a little more complicated, but I still got to places on time – barely.

And then we got Wonderbutt.  Apparently, my Dorfenbergerthalamus is eroding with age or just cannot factor one more responsibility into my life; it now consistently miscalculates the time necessary to prepare to leave.  It could figure in me, then Cap’n Firepants, then Dimples, getting ready.  But Wonderbutt has overloaded my Dorfenbergerthalamus.  So, although I am ready at the supposedly target moment, I then realize that I must make sure the appropriate gates are up to guarantee no border crossings occur while we are gone, and that Wonderbutt has adequate chewing materials so that he does not feel the need to resort to our furniture or other unpredictable objects – like the markers Dimples absentmindedly leaves around in case she needs to do spontaneous art projects.

Now it’s Cap’n Firepants who is in the car, claiming he is going to enforce the AIS (Ass in Seat) Law one of these days (see “Everybody Loves Raymond” for more specific information) as I scramble around the house at the last minute trying to determine why my Dorfenbergerthalamus has misfired once again.

So, don’t let anyone tell you that people don’t change.  Once, I was a nervous wreck who was ridiculously early for any occasion.  Now, I’m a nervous wreck who is regularly late and may or may not be wearing matching shoes with teethmarks in them.

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Posted on October 24, 2011, in Cap'n Firepants, Dimples, Family, Humor, Marriage, Parenting, Time, Wonderbutt and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 27 Comments.

  1. I’m like that all the time and my boyfriend is from a family that can be up to 1-2 hours late. Apparently his mom used to tell his dad something happened about an hour earlier than it would happen so they would be only an hour late instead of 2. I guess as time goes by you have to just learn to deal with it. I don’t know if I can do that, but like you said, people change.

  2. I KNOW I couldn’t handle 1-2 hours late. I think I would certainly have a heart attack or something!

  3. Oh golly, we really do call it accommodation!

    I really have the best of intentions to be on time, but I am often just a hair past the set appointment or time to meet at the restaurant. My biggest problem seems to be rose coloured glasses when it comes to how much time is left before my designated moment to launch. Somehow, I am four minutes late without ever meaning to be because I think I have a moment to quickly gather up the recycling or clip the cat’s toenails.

    I hear wifeing and mothering can have brutal impacts on all a woman’s glands, so I’m not surprised your Dorfenbergerthalamus has been refusing to do its job.

  4. Dorfenbergerthalamus….I have a mis-firing one…finally, I know the cause! Thanks!

  5. ooh I have never heard of this Dorfenbergerthalamus. I can’t even write it let alone say it.
    All my life I have always been somewhere either early or on time but never ever late. My stepfather was the one who taught me that lesson

  6. My uncle was chronically late for work. One day the boss sat him down and asked my uncle if he could come in on time. “I could,” my uncle said, “But then you’d expect if of me.”

  7. Wasn’t Dorfenbergerthalamus an ancient Egyptian King?

    • Yes. He’s the one suspected of murdering young King Tut because Tut was late to all of the kingly functions. Then Dorfenbergerthalamus became King and from then on everything in Egypt ran according to the sundial.

  8. What I want to know is, is it the shoes that might be matching or the teeth marks that might match.

  9. I think I have the same affliction but Tammy is my kryptonite.

    I’ve tried adjusting the time to account for her non-Dorfenbergerthalamus, but it’s no use.

    I end up getting ready then sitting and waiting for her only to remember that I left something inside once we get in the car.

    Stupid Dorfenbergerthalamus.

  10. My hubs is a very worldly and well read man. I told him we suffer from dorfenbergerthalamus. He looked at me with his crazy eye. BINGO! something I knew that he didn’t. Thanks Any time you would like to past on a few more of those words I am interested.

  11. Miranda Gargasz

    I have the same bouncing right leg! What is that all about? You think we’re just soooo ready to go that the energy has to do something since our hubbies aren’t moving quickly enough?

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