Friday, February 13, 2009

Mommy brain

My brain is mush. Everyone said this would happen. I thought pregnancy brain was bad. Often, I start talking and forget, mid-sentence, what I was going to say. You would think I would need to have my wits about me since here I am taking care of a small, helpless child all day, every day. I guess I have my wits, since I am pretty confident I could respond quickly if, say, Jonah tried to eat a wood chip at the playground. And, I could probably tell you exactly what he ate for every meal and snack for the last seven days. But, I can't do simple math in my head anymore. And, I often can't remember what day it is. Or, totally space on the name of someone I have seen a dozen times at the Starbuck's down the street. But, then, sometimes, when I am quiet and still, like when I am nursing Jonah as he falls asleep, I have these eloquent thoughts. I amaze myself as I watch my brain follow a path, make connections between two seemingly unrelated things, write poetry of a sort. I think, "I've got to write that down." Then, I don't. And, these genious musings of mine are gone. Poof! Vanished into thin air. And, then I become just another mom, wiping yogurt (organic, no sugar added) off my sleeve and replacing Jonah's little shoe back on his foot for the tenth time before we reach the end of the block, smiling as he points to dogs and birds and buses and trucks and my nose and my eyes and his nose and my hair, kicking his legs, longer than ever, chattering and excited, knowing that the next corner we turn brings us to the playground, where he can practice walking, climb up some wooden steps, crawl over to the edge of the blue slide, turn around so his feet go first and push himself down the slide on his belly, with my hand just barely touching him, just barely spotting him now because he can almost, almost do it all by himself. And, then I may call you on the phone as we are walking home, pushing the stroller with one hand, balancing the slim phone between my chin and shoulder as I carry a coffee (maybe even caffeinated now) in the other hand, and I will probably forget to tell you all about it. Or, maybe I will tell you everything, in very great detail. And, then, I will sit down again. Jonah will be sleepy. He will nurse. His eyes will flutter. I will catch my breath. And think great thoughts. ~ Nicole