Mommy Brainers Unite!

Alright folks. My brain literally feels fried. Want to know what fried brain feels like? Fuzzy. I’m operating my fine little self on about five hours of sleep. And to put it in the words of one dramatic crab, “My nerves are shot. This is a catastrophe!”

The kiddies and the Husband are finally nestled safe in their beds while visions of monkeys and popsicles dance in their heads. I should be doing the same. “But I’ve got to blog”, my fuzzy brain says. And I’ve got to finish my luscious Sonic Lemon Berry slush of course! The last thing my noggin is equipped to do right now is write a post worthy of your attention. But I’ve got an itch, an itch that can only be scratched by this here keyboard of mine. That was so lame. I’m sorry.

Speaking of fuzzy brain, the more I think about it, the more I realize that I’ve quite possibly been living with this condition for the past three or four years. Mommy brain, as some call it. It is a legitimate ailment mother’s go through while they multiply and replenish the earth. Google it readers. The internets never lie. And I stand before you as prime specimen of the affliction.

Since I first gestated a human being in my body I’ve racked up a plethora of evidence to support mommy brain. I NEVER would have done these things pre-kiddos.

*I’ve been known to leave the car door open . . . and not realize it until the NEXT morning. This only happened once. But still. The Husband can hold this over my head for the eternities.

*I’ve been known to butcher popular phrases or sayings. For example instead of saying, “I’m putting my foot down!” I might say something like, “I’m putting my finger down!” Again, more fodder for the Husband.

*Just yesterday I put the milk in the cabinet, instead of the fridge. My son said, “What are you doing!” It’s a sad state of affairs when your three year old “thinks” more than you do.

*In preparation for a lesson I had to teach at church, I was looking for Luke in the Bible and became very frustrated when my attempts to find it in alphabetical order were fruitless. Matthew, Mark, Luke? . . . this Bible is all screwy. To defend myself a little, I had been looking in the Merriam Webster Dictionary previous to that.

*Last week I was putting wet clothes in the dryer, to be dried obviously. Only when I pressed the button the dryer didn’t come on. Blast this thing isn’t even five years old yet! Then I realized I hadn’t closed the dryer door. That was a major low point in my day.

And I’m just scratching the surface here. I know I’m not alone in this either. I see moms doing stupid stuff everyday. I choose to give them the benefit of the doubt and blame it on the mommy brain. Unless it is something really horrific, like giving their child Cheetos and cranberry juice while they are wearing a white T-shirt and sitting on a white couch, which is on a white rug. There are just no words or excuses for that heinous mistake.

But aside from that, I think we need to create a judge-free zone amongst us mommy brainers of the world. A group of mothers who aren’t afraid to confess some of the things they’ve done, all in the name having posterity. So confess away dear readers. I’m listening, not laughing. Promise.

Want to cheer up a mommy brained friend of yours (or perhaps yourself)? You should probably give her this lovely handwritten note that she can display on her own blog, just to let her know that all is well. Right click/save/put on blog. Easy as that.

P.S. I now have a community on BlogFrog. Now all I need is . . . people in my community. Stop on by. Check it out. I really like it. So if your not signed up yet, you should probably just do it, then be a part of my community of super peoples.