I Voted

Yes, I voted--and for the people I meant to vote for--but barely.

Let me start with a little story. Once upon a time, when I was a teacher, I had no patience for students who didn't read and follow directions. "Take your time," I would harp. "Read the directions. Read carefully!" If someone asked a question which the directions obviously answered, I scolded them and sent them back to the italicized font at the top of the page.

I myself have always had a very good track record for reading and following directions, going all the way back to the fifth grade, when my class was given a worksheet that instructed us to "Be sure to read ALL the directions first before doing anything else." I read through all the directions: 1. Remember to read all the directions; 2. Draw a circle; 3. Draw a line through the middle of the circle; 4. Walk to the back of the room and sharpen your pencil; 5. etc; 6. etc; 7. etc. As my classmates drew circles and sharpened pencils, I read through all the directions, finally reaching 30: Now that you have read all the directions, don't do anything on this page. Take your blank page to your teacher for a surprise.

I was the first one to the teacher. I got a candy bar.

So today we woke up early to vote before Dean went to work. We strolled Amelia in her pajamas to the polling place. The lines were very short. I got my ballot, and the man who handed it to me told me to draw a line to connect the broken arrows for the candidates of my choice. I took my ballot to my little voting cubby, where I did read one set of directions, which was posted on the cubby wall: Read your ballot and use the provided pen or pencil to vote. If you make a mistake, you can receive up to two replacement ballots.

Huh, I thought to myself, stupid Americans. Who would need two replacement ballots?

And I began to select my choices, carefully filling in the spaces between the arrows. Filling them in completely. With a thick black line.

When I got to the top of the second column, my eyes fell on the directions at the top of the ballot. Fill in the space between the arrows with only one single line. Making extra marks can void your ballot.

As you may or may not know, the race for Senate in Colorado is very tight. I very much do not want one particular candidate to win, because I strongly disagree with that candidate's ideas about abortion. So I did not want my ballot to be void. I thought I better go check if it was going to be.

The poll workers were concerned. Yes, they said, I needed to mark only one single line. After a flurry of flipping through the pages of a polling handbook, my first ballot was marked VOID and I was handed a new ballot.

I was flustered. I was embarrassed. I was in a hurry because there was a lot to vote on. I had only had half a cup of coffee. For whatever reason, I went back to the cubby and carefully drew a straight, single line--in between the arrows for the Senatorial candidate I did not, NOT, NOT mean to vote for.

I stood there for a few minutes, feeling like a complete and total idiot. I couldn't go back and tell the poll workers, who I had left about 5 seconds ago, that I had messed up another ballot, but I couldn't stand there and vote for the wrong person.

I slunk back to the poll workers. They kindly but gravely informed me that they were legally required to state that this was the last ballot I could receive; even if I messed up again, I could not have any more ballots.

"I understand," I replied.

So I went back to the voting area. I went to a different cubby this time. I very, very carefully chose the Senator I wanted, and drew a single, straight line to connect his arrow. I figured no matter what else, I should really try to get the Senator right. But I made it through the whole rest of the ballot, even the proposed Constitutional amendments and Ordinance 300, the question of whether Denver should create an "extraterrestrial affairs commission to help ensure the health, safety, and cultural awareness of Denver residents and visitors in relation to potential encounters or interactions with extraterrestrial intelligent beings or their vehicles." (I voted yes on that last one. Why not?)

As I took my ballot to the collection box, the woman handing out the "I Voted" stickers congratulated me. "Good job," she said. "It is difficult to follow all those directions."

I smiled weakly, said thank you, and left as quickly as I could.

In conclusion, this is what people mean by Mommy Brain. For me it's a combination of chronic exhaustion and the feeling that I am always in a hurry. I guess before I was a mom I had lots and lots of time to follow my thoughts to wherever they went. Now, not so much. And, pre-Amelia, it was much easier to finish a task. Now unloading the dishwasher can take all day. So I think I try to do everything as quickly as possible. Including, it seems, voting.