Unapologetically Mom

Unpolished Parenting from a Straightforward Mom

A Bad Case of Mommy Brain

Some days we moms are the heroes of our little castles.  You rocked both kid’s doctor appointments while wearing pants made of something other than a jersey knit and STILL managed to get the lawn mowed while dinner chugged away in the crockpot.  And bathtime?  Not only did all the kids get their baths before bed, but the dog too (and you didn’t even have to throw it in with the kids)!  You owned the day like you had every Ryan Gosling meme smoothly cheering you on.  You were awesome!

Frustratingly, not every day can go so smoothly.  

There are the average days when your child tells you they have no clothes to wear, only for you to realize that they put the clothes you spent 2 hours folding (while your toddler...helped), straight back into the laundry after the stack was knocked off the dresser in the Great Lincoln Log Debacle of 2017.  Or when you take them to buy some new pants, only to realize they aren’t wearing any underwear.  When questioned about this odd fashion choice, you find out that all their underwear have mysteriously vanished: possibly stolen by two-toed extra terrestrials who use them as foot warmers.

Then there are THOSE days.  You know what I mean.  The days that by the end, you are nothing but a mummified shell of a human trying to decide whether to ensconce yourself on the couch with an entire bottle of wine (and you don’t even drink), or burrow under your blankets and call it quits; the days where you have a serious case of Mommy Brain.

 

I came down with a serious case of Mommy Brain the other day.  It was rough.  As with most cases, it started with mild confusion: did I really just put the milk in the cereal cabinet?  It then quickly escalated to nearly destroying a pan when I forgot I set water on to boil, and culminated in the most frustrating and embarrassing phone call I’ve had in a long time.  

I had apparently forgotten to write down the date for my daughter’s next doctor appointment and the little card the office gave me six months ago had long since decided to walk its own path to who knows where.  I knew it should be coming up soon though, so I called the doctor’s office to get the time and date.  

The receptionist was in a huge rush, but I understand, it’s a big multi-doctor office, and she’s probably fielding calls from other moms who can’t remember to write things down.  She asks me for my child’s birth date to confirm the name.  I tell her.  A moment later she tells me that is incorrect. No such child exists. Oh no.  I give her another date.  Still wrong!  I’m starting to panic, how can I forget my own child's birthday?  

The receptionist lets me know she’s going to put me on hold.  Ok then, she clearly thinks I’m a crazy person.  So I take a deep breath and try to calm down to the sounds of smooth jazz clearly being played by a tape recorder someone recorded onto a voicemail system.  I can do this.

 

Just as the receptionist comes back on the line, the little one whose birthday is in question starts pulling on my arm trying to get on the phone.  She wants to say hi to Daddy.  I try to tell her that it’s not Daddy on the phone.  The person actually on the phone would like to know if I have the birth date yet.  At that moment, there is a loud crash as a tower of some 15 play-doh containers comes crashing down in the dining area, and I give the wrong date AGAIN!  Now the receptionist is starting to get angry frustrated.  

By this point, I am apologizing profusely and trying to grab play-doh jars before the dog can run off with one.  I practically shout the birth date at her.  She looks it up and gives me the appointment date and time.  I make her repeat twice while I write it down.  I don’t think anyone has ever said, “Have a nice day” to me that fast before.  She disconnected that call faster than Han Solo made the Kessel Run.

By the time my husband got home that evening I was nearly in tears holding a bag of chicken breasts that I had forgotten to set out to thaw for dinner.  Let’s just say we had pizza for dinner and leave it at that.

 

Positive takeaway?  Not every day is like that one.  That’s it.  There’s no secret to getting through the rough Mommy Brain days of motherhood.  Say a prayer, take a deep breath, and hold out until tomorrow.  Just like the days when you rock the mom-thing, you’ve got this day too.  



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