Sunday, June 20, 2010
Throughout high school, my marks were high enough to continually earn me a spot on the honour roll. I went on to university, where I completed an honours degree. I then moved onto grad work which earned me a spot on the dean's list. All of this combined makes me a pretty bright girl. And I'd say that was the case until January 2007. Best I can figure, there is a direct correlation to my general level of intelligence and getting pregnant and having kids.
Dirty Daddy loved my sharp wit, intelligent insights, and keen organization skills. These, among a few others that I am unwilling to share, were some of the reasons he fell in love with me. Unbeknownst to either of us, this would not be the tie that binds.
While I struggled through all of my pregnancies with that haze in your brain that can only be caused by swelling blood vessels, increased oxygen, and the overall energy required to create a human being, I was in no way prepared for what came after. I am three years into Mommyhood. Bug will be turning three in October and Monkey just turned one a month ago. With the baby days behind me, I truly was prepared for an intelligence revival. Sadly, I was mistaken.
I am not sure how it occurs as I was not a biology major, but I'm pretty sure that my two kids sucked out a substantial amount of IQ points, intelligence and knowledge from me through my breasts while nursing. The remaining leaked out when I slept on my stomach (only to wake up in a pool of milk - and I don't even like milk!). What is left is a sad glimpse of what I used to know. It sits there on the tip of my brain, but refuses to be lulled out. It simply sits there, unreachable.
This frustratingly inept new me now loses directions in her own driveway; has to be reminded at least a dozen times to get around to something (and still won't if it's not written down); forgets to feed herself; spends the majority of her time walking around with one shaved leg; makes many trips to the same store as she leaves her credit card there after making a purchase; has lost her favorite bra in her own house; has called her children by names that weren't theirs; leaves the house for the day without locking it; often forgets to put on underwear; is sidetracked so easily that a lunchtime request for ketchup can take up to two days to receive; let two different repairmen into her house last week without the faintest idea what it was they were to repair; checks the calendar each day to see what day of the week it is; now has shares at Blockbuster as no movie is ever returned the same month its' rented; spends an hour looking for the sunglasses that are on top of her head; rewashes the same load of laundry at least twice as it sits washed in the washer for a week; writes the date listing the month as December when it is June (the bank had to call me twice about that one); really, I could go on, I just don't remember the rest.
Why is Mother Nature so cruel? She is a Mother after all! Doesn't she know the high levels of intelligence and organization required to raise kids? My guess is that she's not being cruel, she simply forgot to tell us.
I spent the first thirty-five years of my life gathering knowledge. And it only took three years for it all to disappear. This saddens me greatly. I liked being smart. I really liked being smart. But I love my kids. I really love my kids. Thus, if Mommyhood requires some type of breastmilk lobotomy, so be it. It is a small price to pay for the fantabulousness (that's a word, right?) that is Motherhood. My sanity, however, is something that I'm holding onto - even if it's just by my fingernails.