Salad Haiku

Cool, crisp leafy greens-
now I, with kids, miss you. You
take too long to eat.

Peeping Mom

I don't know if this would classify as a diagnosable mental disorder, or if it is even a problem, but I have to tell you that I am a peeping mom. You might have seen me occasionally peeking into your car window, or glancing in your open front door. But don't freak out. I am just checking to see if your car is covered in toys, cheerios, juice, crumbs, mud, wipes, and more toys. And I just want to know if your house has big huge piles of crap where organization once was. When I see that your car and your house are a chaotic, disorganized mess...I feel a wave of relief that I am not alone, a sense of deep cosmic connection, and a reassurance that nothing is really wrong with me...well, except for this peeping compulsion.

Can you get tutoring for "mom brain"?

I recently agreed to run a panel discussion for a psychology symposium, as the panel's discussant. Sounds easy, right? Stand up, introduce the panelists, give a brief description of what everyone is here to talk about, then sit down...

But, actually, there is WORK involved. And I can't keep up with it. I get e-mails telling me what I need to do, including writing my bio, seminar learning goals, etc, and I can't seem to get it done...actually, I can't even remember the BASIC INSTRUCTIONS that I need to follow...you know, like how many goals to write, and when this is all due. WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO MY BRAIN? My capacity for concentration and attention to detail is utterly shot. I would want it back, too, if I could think about it for long enough.

I was encouraged by an article I read last year about motherhood improving cognitive skills, you know, from all the MULTITASKING we do. The main study cited in the article looked at rat mommies and noted that they were able to do about a zillion little rat things while caring for their pups (compared to their male counterparts). **NOTE: Are you noticing how decidedly unscientific this description is? And I have a Ph.D. HA!!** Maybe my brain is somehow stronger now...but I can tell you, it is not functioning properly!

I think someone should start a business of working for moms as their auxiliary brains. For example, this person could follow a mom around, making notes of what needs to be done, posting reminders and regularly whispering in her ear "don't forget the wet clothes need to go into the dryer" or "you should be doing your work and not writing your blog"...or, what the hell, maybe they should just do it for her! Who are these lazy, pestering jerks anyhow?!?

Oy. I need a drink. Speaking of drinks...Did I mention that I quit drinking coffee? It was giving me severe blood sugar crashes. :( Maybe this is my problem lately. Maybe those rodent mommies did so well in their multitasking because they got to drink coffee.

Here's my new hypothesis:

Mom Brain (minus) stimulants = severe cognitive decline

I'd research this myself, but, well...wait...what was I saying?

Gross

Yesterday, something was awry at kindergarten pick-up. I showed up, parked Tot-Tot outside in his stroller, and ran in to get Big Boy. He was sitting at a corner table looking distressed. He came out walking in a very awkward, stiff way, looking sheepish. I asked "is something wrong" and he mumbled, "I'll tell you at home." Then I smelled him...Ew. Gross.

I asked "did you make a poo-poo in your pants?" Looking VERY sad and humiliated, he admitted that he had. He'd apparently been playing on the playground and couldn't make it in on time. I quickly retrieved the tot, who was waiting just outside, grabbed the bag of emergency clothes I'd left at school, and we made a beeline for the kindergarten potty. After a (stinky) clothes-changing ordeal (that I'd rather forget), he was fresh and clean again, and ready to run outside.

Once we got home, the kids played together and Big Boy was in a fine mood. It was great to have solved the (smelly) problem, but I was left with another dilemma...What do I do with this gross, nasty underwear? Do I throw it out? No--I can't do that! It's from the Gap!! Do I WASH it? Ew. Gross. Who wants to do that? Finally, I decided to dump it in a bucket w/detergent and soak it overnight.

But, then, you still gotta wash it somehow...



...and then you gotta wash everything it touched...



And...ew, gross.

But, you know, I have to admit that (in addition to being thoroughly repulsed by this job) I actually felt proud of myself for taking such good care of my little Big Boy. I somehow managed to not feel angry or upset with him, I reassured him, and got him through his moment of humiliation...helping him to emerge with restored self-esteem.

And, to think...he was going to wait to tell me until we got home...you know, after RIDING in my CAR. (ew. gross.)