I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I really do try hard not to be too All Baby, All The Time around here. Despite the arrival of the Baby tab several months ago (and the arrival of an Actual Baby a few months later), I’ve tried to keep RG more or less true to its roots and not chatter on too much about Indy for various reasons, including (but not restricted to) the following: 1) I don’t want to bore you guys, and while I find my son’s newfound ability to hang onto his feet both adorable and fascinating, I’m not sure that anyone without a biological imperative to find such things adorable and fascinating would, and 2) I am very, very afraid of ending up on STFU Parents. Nearly every time that I’ve sat down to recount a hilarious! wacky! tale about Adventures With Baby, I’ve thought to myself, “Self, might this blog post end up on STFU Parents?” And if the answer is yes – which it nearly always is, because hilarious and wacky stories about babies routinely involve bodily functions, and bodily function stories are just asking for it – I put an immediate halt to the proceedings.
But my desire to not fall into the Mommy Blogger hole has created a bit of a conundrum…because at the moment 99.9% of my brain is taken up by my son (four and a half months old now!), and every second – literally every second – that I’m not working, I am feeding/changing/entertaining a very small person. Not that I deserve a medal for this – of course not – just that…it doesn’t leave a whole lot of time to do stuff that I can write about. The non-Baby stuff. (This, by the way, is why I love Reader Questions – they keep me thinking about things like what I might wear to all those places I don’t go these days…so please, keep sending away!)
Anyway, this was an extremely long and rambly way of getting to my point, which is that this post is sort of tangentially Baby-Related, in that it’s about how my head is a total disaster zone at the moment.
Want to hear what I did yesterday?
Hunted around for half an hour looking for the Snap ‘n’ Go stroller thingy, until finally remembering that I had brought it downstairs to leave in the lobby before Kendrick left for the day. This, mind you, had transpired just a few minutes earlier…and I had no recollection of the entire four-flights-down-four-flights-up trip. Zero. I apparently floated downstairs, tucked my stroller into its little nook, and floated all the way back upstairs without a single moment of recognition as to what I was doing.
And then later on, when I got back from the grocery store, I hunted around for another half hour (can you tell how productive yesterday was?) in search of the grocery bags that I was absolutely certain had gone missing. I even went out into the hallway and down a flight of stairs, wondering whether I had, I don’t know, dripped grocery bags on my way up or something. And you know what I eventually realized?
I had already put my groceries away.
And I could not remember doing it.
I’m sorry, but that is weird.
And apparently that’s also what they refer to as “Mommy Brain.” Which makes the text conversations I’ve been having with Kendrick lately make a lot more sense.
“Want me to bring anything home for you?”
Seriously, I had that conversation with him. I’m often typing with one hand, and so when autocorrect makes pancake batter of my words, I usually just hit “Send” and have faith that he’ll be able to figure it out.
But I like making up words generally, so the only problem here is that some recipients of my text messages might think that I’m tippling into the schnapps at 10AM rather than suffering from a raging case of Mommyitis.
And to them?!
To them, I say…