So, you’ve all heard of the so called “pregnancy brain,” right? It’s a totally valid condition; I’m an absolute space cadet when I’m expecting. It’s just par for the puke filled course. But, what’s it called when you are no longer pregnant, but still totally moronic? Child-induced stupidity? Just plain stupidity? Honey, the children ate my brain? Whatever the hell it is, I’ve got it and it’s getting worse by the day.
Perhaps the most illustrative example was last week when I asked my thirteen year old neighbor if she had children. (In my defense, she really looked older and I was all flustered because Penelope almost ate her dog when she came over to introduce herself. The good news is that she babysits. The bad news? She was busy this weekend. Attending the Bat Mitzvah of her best friend. Whoops.)
I sent my mother to Lily’s class last Friday for Grandparent’s Day. She took the day off from work, slept over the night before and got all dressed up, only to be told that she was early. By a week. (Double whoops.)
But it doesn’t end there… I am completely unable to remember Lily’s teacher’s name. People ask me and I go blank. It’s Nancy, but when I’m put on the spot, I simply cannot remember. Last night, we were sweetly invited to the home of some school parents for dinner. There were several other couples there and in making conversation, I asked a man if he lived in the neighborhood. Considering he was the owner of the house, the answer was yes. Not surprisingly.
I could go on all night, but I’ll spare you. Suffice it to say that I’m pretty much a mess. But, I swear I wasn’t always like this. Or, maybe I was and I just can’t remember. The kids seem to have eaten the memory part of my brain along with the smarts. At least they left my body in the shape they found it. Or, not.
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