My Name Is ______ and I have Momnesia

So I have a confession to make, and no Foo Fighters it’s not that I’m your fool, because I am nobodies fool, besides my two daughters of course, but that’s not by choice. That’s called biology or chemistry— or science in general? Ah. You see what is happening? I heard that your brain actually shrinks during pregnancy and doesn’t repair immediately after baby. Some research says six months after, others say two years after—point is, Momnesia is a real thing. The theory I have about myself from having two kids within a two-year period is that my brain is now actually extra small because it never recovered the first time around. As a result, I have found myself increasingly dumber, stupider, denser- I can use all the synonyms in the world to try to soften the blow–but bottom line is I have become a complete idiot.

Take today as an example. My daughter and I do a Toddler and Me class, much like a nursery school class, but no separation—the way this mama likes it. I wear my three month old in the Bjorn to these classes. Anyway, it was a little chaotic getting out of the house per usual, loading and unloading my clan in and out of the car, and into class. Then I started to smell a familiar smell—a foul smell.

I pulled my toddler aside, stretched her hot pink leggings peaking into her diaper, and Bingo, just as I suspected, she had a poop.

“You got poopsies little one,” I said grabbing her little hand, intertwining our fingers–leading her towards my denim diaper bag.

“Poopy, poopy,poopy,” my toddler parroted while chanting in a circle.

I escorted her out of the classroom and down the hall, where we stopped to see Mocha the bunny—we both said “hop, hop” jumping up and down to greet him. We continued on, her saying “uppy” twice along the way, but really not wanting to be held after hoisting her up, my littlest still in the carrier—a lot going on. We eventually made it to the bathroom, me eyeing the changing table in solidarity—it was us against the toddler. I quickly swooped her up, checked to make sure her foot didn’t kick my three-month old in the process—and listened to her whine because nothing in this entire world is worse than a diaper change when you are 21 months old. Nothing!

In my peripheral I heard loud footsteps enter the bathroom and use the facilities. Then the faucet next to me turned on trickling water, drip dropping onto the bottom of the sink. I turned to acknowledge the woman next to me. The problem was—I was pretty sure that was not a woman—but who am I to judge? Maybe she was just against waxing. I mean, you should have seen me that day. Now, a normal human with a properly functioning brain would think, “oh damn, maybe I am in the wrong bathroom.” But no, I didn’t give it a second thought. The woman gave me a bizarre look and a nod, but I chalked it up to the made up songs I was singing to distract my daughter from diaper changing hell.

Only when we exited the bathroom and I saw the sign on the door in white lettering—Men—was when I finally realized “damn I was in the wrong bathroom.” And no, the row of urinals didn’t tip me off. It’s like my brain forgot that another gender existed and they have a separate bathroom. No wonder that man gave me a “WTF are you doing in here lady and waving at me like it’s no big deal” look.

Then even better, I was talking to a mother in my class who is due in March with twins, a boy and a girl.

“How are you feeling? Last week there was a man in our class whose wife has twins due in March as well! She wasn’t feeling well so she didn’t come to class.” I mused as I guided my daughter’s hand as she was scribbling with a green marker on blue construction paper. I looked up at her and she must have been thinking, moron, he was with the same kid I have been taking here every freaking week and he is my husband. But she politely said “that is my husband.”

“Awe your husband is so nice and my brain is officially shot. That I didn’t realize he was your husband and with sweet Jack (her son) is beyond me!” Talk about stupid! The teachers, everyone in the class, roared with laughter and then were making excuses for me: You are tired, you have a three-month old and a toddler, and it’s totally understandable. How I didn’t know it was the same kid, with the same name, is a mystery beyond me. Maybe those metal alloys from the UFO’s have the answer. Maybe not.

So here I am hoping that if we share our experiences, strength and hope with each other we can get through this incredibly dumb period in our lives together. Say it with me if this behavior applies to you as well: “My name is __________ and I have Momnesia. Pray for me.”

Holy Sh!t I Am Sue Heck…And You May Be Too…

Eyes wide, lashes beating against my forehead (thanks lash extensions!), my dark baby browns stare my rejection dead in the face—head on, whatever it is. My smile becomes lopsided-a smirk—not quite a frown… at least yet. Why? Because I was expecting it anyway. I set myself up for the rejection; just praying for the 1% chance it wouldn’t be, so the blow isn’t as harsh. Newsflash: it always stings.

Ever feel like you keep putting yourself out there only to get the same bad results every time? Let’s say you are a mom trying to get your toddler to eat vegetables and you disguise them in the sauce but your toddler screams “yucky!” and spits them all over her highchair. So then what do you do? The next day, you try the same thing but a different dish, with the same “yucky” “spit” result. You will also probably try it again the day after. It could be because motherhood and insanity are by definition the same things–obviously.

Look I am a fighter, I fight for what I believe in, but when enough times you don’t get positive feedback, you may start feeling like a failure. When do you give up? Never! Then when you keep trying, doing, trying it again and again you may have what Oprah coined an “Aha!” momentI had this yesterday. This became my “Holy sh!t, I am Sue Heck” moment. Why? Well, for those who aren’t familiar with The Middle, Sue is the lovable character who puts herself out there and fails spectacularly every single time, but none the less never stops trying. That is us, mamas—we are all Sue Heck’s!

Do I want to be like that? Sometimes. Unlike Sue, I am not an eternal optimist who doesn’t get deterred in the face of adversity. Let’s be real, most of us aren’t cheerful optimists to the Sue-extreme, so the outcome isn’t so “oh well”. I mean I have never met a person so unaffected quite like Sue! While she quickly rebounds with her next grandiose idea, I unfortunately can’t. After a while, I do what my almost two year old would do—throw a tantrum of epic proportions or sulk.

But yet as moms, we keep trying and trying because we have bigger goals then just our pride: our kids. We want them to be healthy and thriving individuals so we put that beyond our sanity. And you know what? The one thing to love about Sue is that one day she will make her mark because she won’t give up and that will be us—and because we worked so hard our victory will be even sweeter.

So mama, when your toddler does one day eat your healthy cooking or actually goes to the bathroom on the potty—those are the days when you think, “it’s good to be Sue Heck.” When you’re a mom being a Sue will eventually pay off and like the Heck clan, your whole family will love you because of your dedication and heart.