Lie #837: Mom Brain REALLY Isn’t That Bad

Mom brain is a real thing. I don’t think anyone denies it, but they definitely don’t tell you about it being as bad as it is.

Today is one of those days. I spent the better half of my morning walking around trying to clean my house (Company’s coming! THROW IT ALL AWAY!) and wondering what was wrong with my coffee pot. I discovered that 1) I never put grounds in it, and 2) I didn’t even bother to turn it on.

If that was any indicator how the rest of the day would be, I don’t know what was. I distractedly pulled my son’s breakfast out of the microwave, spilling most of it on myself. What little I did save I attempted to feed him. He resisted. I lost the battle of the wills.

When that was over and I FINALLY got the chance to get myself some coffee, I dropped my Sweet N Low packets INTO my mug instead of pouring them in the mug. I went to put away the chocolate syrup (why was that out?) and grabbed the coffee pot instead of the syrup.

I FORGET THINGS. Anyone who knows me knows that I was forgetful before, but since children I have become my own horrible version of the Absent-minded Professor. I walk in and out of rooms trying to remember what I’ve forgotten in there more often than I’d care to admit. I leave important things on top of my car and drive off… like the cake I was supposed to bring somewhere.

Before I had LD, admittedly, I had my forgetful moments. But now it’s worse. “Why?? Why do I keep forgetting things ALL THE TIME?” I ask myself. And then I realize: my brain is in disaster prevention mode.


“Step away from the fireplace, young man!!”

“Get your hands out of the poop! Hands away from the diaper!”

“OMG what did you just put in your mouth?! SPIT IT OUT- SPIT IT!!!”

Of course I don’t remember anything anymore. I’m trying to keep my child from killing himself in creative ways that only toddlers know. In the same minute, I’m also trying to keep him from breaking the furniture (sorry lamp, you were my favorite- I still don’t know how you managed to meet your death) in every square foot of my house.  It’s a full time job, running after a kid and trying to anticipate their next move. I can’t be expected to remember my plans for the day or anything from my college education, much less which day and time I was supposed to pick you up from the airport.

Yes, I checked with you twelve times during your vacation and texted you at one a.m. in a panic that you had somehow landed. Even though I set five alarms for the correct time. Mom brain. Yes, I DO turn the car around and drive ten minutes out of the way to check to make sure I’ve locked the door when I left the house. Mom brain. Yes, I have arrived to my destination with a curler stuck in my hair. Mom brain. Yes, I have nearly put formula in my coffee. Mom. Brain.

So next time you see me, if I have something very obviously wrong with me and my wardrobe, or I’ve forgotten something that’s fairly simple, forgive me. I’m trying to stay one step ahead of the toddler ninja and my brain doesn’t work anymore.

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