Tuesday, October 19, 2010

"Are you classified as human?" "Negative, I am a meat popsicle."

Did I forget to mention?

I feel utterly distracted/borderline braindead most of the time? That people will talk to me and I feel like I stare at them blankly until my mind can catch up? And when such an interaction ends before my mind catches up, when it finally gets there, I wonder “what must that person think of me”? And when my kid is in the vicinity and the center of my universe at the moment, the effect is heightened to the point of absolute idiocy?

[Know this: if you have a conversation with me and I stare at you blankly or make some offhanded comment or seem distracted, it’s not because I am not interested or not listening, it’s simply because I have contracted a severely acute case of mommybrain that is unfortunately not likely to go into remission any time soon. Official prognosis: poor.]

And then, there are days like this morning, I couldn't sleep. When you’re me, as I am most days, this is what happens when you have a full bladder and an empty stomach. Then, you shift your legs and body and your bladder shuts up, but hunger won’t quit gnawing your stomach from the inside out. And even though it’s the first night in a while that the baby slept 8 whole hours without waking for a night feeding, your mind wakes from its slumber and starts churning things around in previously empty spaces. (I was wrong when I said I fantasized about 6 solid hours of sleep. At 4:30 in the morning, 6 hours is still not enough!)

And the mind churns up such things as whether “gotten” is even a word? Because I said to M the night before “I should have gotten more cereal at the store, but whatever” and now, all these hours later, my mind wants to check whether I was grammatically correct or not! (For the record, I think it’s a past participle which can only be used with a helping verb string like “could have” or “must have” or “should have”. So maybe I was grammatically correct after all but it’s still just bad English.)

Then, the silliest thoughts form a crazytrain that gains such speeding momentum that I finally leave the warm baby body curled up into my middle and get up, because, might as well try to blog about some of this stupid stuff because I suddenly had a million little things I wanted to put into this blog and so I got out of bed and. . . .

Then? Blank. Complete blank. Total block. What was it I was thinking about, now? Why am I up again?

M laughed when he came out of our room and began the morning rushabout to ready for work and he asked “why aren’t you asleep” and I intoned back, somewhat desperately, “I tried!” He must have seen the pleading frantic look in my eyes, because he looked at me like he really believed me and suggested “you should come home and take a nap!”. (Or maybe he just knows me well enough to know I would never sanely choose to be up at such an hour. Also? See: grouchy.)

When I ask him why –Why?! – of all nights, when the baby sleeps through, why I can’t do the same. . . well, he doesn’t know! And why should he? He got maybe 10 more minutes of sleep than me and perhaps both of our sleep-meters are dipping toward “E”? Or perhaps we both are caught in an “aha” moment where we realize that maybe we should try to go to bed earlier? (Sha right! Like that ever happens! Mostly because I'm juvenile and stubborn like that.)

Later, while standing in my bathroom in a nekkid state of being, I find myself halting between the steps of getting ready, my mind not sure whether I really want to put deodorant on next or whether I should brush my teeth or maybe rub some lotion on my dry skin? So, I stand there with my hand darting this way and that as my mind commands “Deodorant! No! Lotion! No! . . . Um, what are we doing again?”

I settle for trying to sweep the perma-purple out from under my eyes using merely an index finger and liquid makeup. Today, the final effect of such magic tricks is only middling, which gets me thinking how glad I am that today’s a Tuesday instead of a Monday, otherwise I would have had no other option but to crawl back into bed and give my mind strict orders to “spend the remainder of the voyage contemplating all possible meanings of the phrase ‘silent as the grave’.”

Then, standing in my closet, my glance catches some dressy capri work pants all slouched over a step stool, wrinkled and sad. I suddenly feel for them, because before long it will be winter and they will be resigned to their place at the back of the closet and their long-legged cousins will take center stage. It’s not their fault they’re short of stature! It’s not their fault I hate ironing! And so, I grab them up and go turn on the iron – which is, like, a miracle! you don’t even know! – and I search the tag and think how sad it is that I don’t instinctively know how these poor, short pants should be ironed. “Cool iron on reverse” says the tag and as I follow its direction I ponder deeply that perhaps this is the way all pants are destined to be ironed? But, honestly, how am I to know?

And so the day began. As the day wore on, my mental freight train finally came into station for a refuel and my mind was no longer rushing to and fro.

But then, much much later, nigh unto the end of day, I went to check the mail and on the way back, I totally passed my street. Drove right on by it without turning left as I should have.

And the moral to this story is this: Tonight, I will get to bed earlier. And also? Pray that my kid sleeps through for 8 straight hours. And also? Mommybrain is real!


[Title quote is from "The Fifth Element"]


The Author said...

postpartum is forever. I forgot to take Boston to school.

And now I am totally self conscience of my grammar. Or total lack there of. I am a sham as a writer.

And every day I resolve to get to bed earlier since my kids are now waking up at the crack of dawn. *said as plan to stay up and try to dig myself out of this hole*

Jen said...

i want sleep now after reading this post!! mommybrain gets better though if that helps things at all!

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