A baby ate my brain…

Last month, psychologists declared that ‘baby brain’ is a real phenomenon and nature’s way of helping women prepare for motherhood.  This will surely come as a huge relief to the millions of women who find themselves keeping the cheese in the dishwasher.  Getting their holiday departure time wrong.  And storing rich tea finger biscuits down their tops.  Not that I have done any of these things myself.

Who are you again?

This week, I cannot think for trying.  It’s not so much a haze as a complete and utter fog.  The sheer effort involved in just trying to remember my kids’ names is exhausting.  So I have now resorted to just calling them ‘girl’ or ‘girls.’  Because I am so fed up with them correcting me.

The words are there somewhere but they don’t flow.  Most of the time, I sound like someone learning English.  Badly.

I put things in the wrong places.  I throw my keys in the wheelie bin instead of the rubbish.  Twice.  Not a disaster because I realised.  But disastrous enough when the binmen have just been, I am eight months pregnant (about as agile as a garden snail) and our bin is suddenly a cavernous well.

Never shop on a hangover.  Or pregnancy hormones.

I also make really bad decisions.  Like going to IKEA.  With Godivy.  In truth, I was actually hoping to give birth in one of the aisles.  So I’d get a year’s free supply of tealights.  ‘Yes, because you’ll be strewing lit tealights all around the house, when baby number three arrives,’ said Twitter friend.

I still bought 100 tealights though.  And 150 serviettes.  Presumably for all the entertaining I’ll be doing in four weeks.  Useful.  And clearly a priority.  Especially considering I haven’t yet packed a hospital bag.  Or even bought anything to go in it, like newborn nappies or maternity pads.  Ahhh maybe THAT’S what I was thinking when I bought all the serviettes.

Should have gone to Boots.

It can only get better.

Still.  It’s not forever.  In four or so weeks the baby will be out.  And I will return to normal.  In about 18 years or so.  I will hopefully not throw the baby in the wheelie bin instead of the nappy.  But even if I do, I’m now a pro at fishing things out so that’s one feather in my cap at least.  This must be what the psychologists mean about baby brain preparing you for motherhood.  Clever.

There are other bonuses too.  Like the fact we haven’t got any baby names yet.  Given that my brain can’t process the names our other two children have owned for the past five years, there’s little hope of me remembering one we’ve just chosen.  So there’s really no pressure to give this baby a name at all.  We will simply call it ‘girl’ or ‘boy.’  Or even just point and grunt.  Something else I have become very good at.

Yes, I’m beginning to feel a lot better about this baby brain business.

Anyway, must dash.

I’ve got a quiche in the washing machine.

If you’re pregnant and have a bad case of baby brain or your brain’s never truly recovered, leave a comment.  And share your baby brain gems.  Also pop over and join Surviving Life and Motherhood.  We repeat ourselves a lot and don’t make much sense.  But hey, it’s really not our fault.  According to recent studies.

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