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Why is Make Small Decisions so Hard?

Chapters, Ottawa, April 2014
Chapters, Ottawa, April 2014

Do you want to do me a favour? Don’t buy me coffee (and don’t offer to babysit, innocent soul!). Make all my decisions for a day.

Some women complain that they develop a mild case of forgetfulness after motherhood. I can remember stuff just fine—including the fact that I have been unable to make up my mind for these past few months.

I can deal with “big life decisions” and work-related matters, though. It’s the small, everyday things I’m having trouble with.

I have two flavours of instant oatmeal at home. I have just spent ten minutes trying to decide which one would be granted the honour of being my snack. Dates and nuts or bananas. I was looking at the two boxes in the pantries and I just couldn’t pick one. And it’s not like it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to eat oatmeal. I mean, a box of Quakers Oats is $2.49 at Walmart and last time I checked, they weren’t anywhere close to being out of stock.

Which mall should we take Mark to today? I look at Feng helplessly. I don’t know. I really don’t. I don’t feel like going to a mall in the first place so it shouldn’t matter. The malls are all the same, with different layouts but the same franchised stores, we aren’t going to do anything special there except entertain Mark for an hour or so. But I just can’t pick one.

I don’t know what to eat. I don’t know what to wear. I don’t know what to read. I don’t know what to watch on TV. I don’t know which brand of canned tuna or which Chinese veggie I should buy. I ponder, I hesitate and I hesitate some more.

And most of the time, since I can’t make up my mind, I give up on buying whatever I came to buy, I turn off the TV, overwhelmed by the number of channels, and I make the same dinner as the day before rather than trying something new.

To avoid making decisions, I put myself on autopilot and settle into a routine. I buy the same brands and the same groceries and alternate between two or three pairs of jeans and as many t-shirts. Thank God I’m not into shoes: I only have three pairs—boots when it’s cold, sneakers when I’ll be doing a lot of walking and sandals when it’s hot.

I think this comes from the fact I have to make decisions for Mark. I have to pick what he wears, what he eats, figure out what’s fun for him and what makes him fussy, and keep him healthy, safe, and happy.

It seems that after that, I have no brain juice left to make decisions for myself.

It’s annoying. “Come on, make up your mind!” I urge myself constantly. I don’t want to waste time sweating the small stuff.

I’ve never been an indecisive person. And overall, life is good. My freelancing business is doing fine and when it comes to work-related decisions, I know what I’m doing. And when I don’t, I’m quick to make a decision and I rarely look back.

So I’ve been trying to quiz Mark. He can’t really say whether he’d rather hang out at IKEA or Chapters but he can definitely choose between a sandwich, a banana or a fruit pureed pouch if I show him these options.

Or not.

Last week, Feng, Mark and I walked by a bakery. Mark stopped and pointed to the window display full of chocolate bunnies and other Easter-themed goodies.

“Do you want a bunny cookie? I’ll get you one if you want.”

We stepped into the bakery and I let Mark check out the cookies at his height level.

“Pick anything you like,” I said cowardly standing in front of the messy-to-eat slices of pies to prevent him from picking the one and only thing that would result in a laundry disaster.

Mark walked around once and turned to me. “Anything, Mark. Chocolate chips cookie? Shortbread?”

He paused and looked around some more.

“How about this one?” I said.

Mark looked disinterested.

“This one?”

“Meh,” he seemed to say.

“Mark, let’s go if you don’t want anything.”

Feng started laughing. “It’s annoying when someone can’t make up his mind, isn’t it!”

“Shut up. Just…”

One of us had to pick something. Feng grabbed a sweet roll and we left.

Can’t even use my son to make decisions. Apparently, it runs in the family, then…

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Zhu

French woman in English Canada.

Exploring the world with my camera since 1999, translating sentences for a living, writing stories that may or may not get attention.

Firm believer that nobody is normal... and it’s better this way.

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