It Might Not Be Mommy Brain

I don’t think ‘Mommy Brain” comes from becoming a mommy, I think it’s just because you have reached maximum capacity; let’s face it, there’s no room for anything else. By the time you have kids, that’s it, you’re done. There’s at least 20 years of information stuck in there. Ever wonder why the older you get the more you need to write down? That’s because that valuable space is taken up by information you know longer need or quite possibly never wanted in the first place. Here is my nonscientific proof.

For example, you can remember what shoes you wore with the outfit on the day you saw that really cute guy at the mall in the 7^th grade. You can remember the entire conversation you had a dance during a particular song; or what someone was wearing during a specific incident, down to the color nail polish and which Swatch watch they had on, but where are your sunglasses? NO clue.

How many of you have trouble remembering your cell phone number? I bet you remember your best friend’s phone number from when you were in elementary school (Ha, you just said the number in your head didn’t you?). If a song comes on the radio that you haven’t heard in over 20 years, you can still sing every single word, along with the instrumental accompaniment, but you will forget to buy milk on the way home.

A few weeks ago the TV in the kitchen was on (I was in the other room) and I heard the song Cruel Summer. I yelled to Ted, “Is Karate Kid on?” He sounded a combination of surprised, confused and impressed then confirmed my suspicions. Now I can’t remember the last time I saw the movie, it has to be over 15 years, and while I was cleaning up the kitchen, I was saying the lines. Teddy was asking if I had seen the movie and I told him I hadn’t in a long, long time. He asked how I knew the words. I just did. That information is taking up the room needed for me to remember to send your behavior chart to school.

One reason I started writing on Facebook and blogging is because I started forgetting all the things my kids were doing and frankly I need it for blackmail later in their life (we have pictures of each of their first poops for that very reason). I need to know these things.

There could be no more room or maybe there is another reason, one you won’t want to tell your kids until they are much older. Maybe you killed those memory brain cells. Is it possible that the hyper organized moms didn’t do as much in their youth to kill brain cells, or maybe that’s just my problem? That could be why I forget to send in lunch money or put the clothes in the dryer. If it is, oh well I had a really good time (from what I’ve been told).

So this is my theory, if you wish to nominate me for the Nobel Prize feel free, but make sure I write it down. I wouldn’t want to miss it.