Lost: One Perfectly Good Mind

There was a time when my mind was as sharp as a newborn’s first tooth.  My mind could rattle off phone numbers, names, dates, and birthdays, both human and canine.  My mind was especially popular at parties; I was always a first round pick for trivial pursuit.

Then Sun-Bun arrived and somewhere between her reflux and apparent sleep allergy (my personal diagnosis) something happened to my mind – it wasn’t as sharp as pre-pregnancy.  I figured my mind, much like my midsection, was just out of shape and would restore itself once I returned to work and got more than three consecutive hours of sleep.

However, my mind, like my midsection, did not return to its former glory. We fumbled along, dropping in our popularity with each forgotten birthday or social obligation. “Happy Belated…” became my new go-to phrase.

Two years later Pookie arrived and the intersection of Sun-Bun’s terrible twos with the needs of a newborn sent my mind further into mush.  My ability to recall any events at all, present or past seemed impossible and I dropped from first pick at trivial pursuit parties to the one who would simply refill the chip bowls. (It may also have been related to me shouting out “breast milk” as one of the Seven Wonders of the World.)

Then sometime last week, while taking the first sips of my morning coffee, my husband, kids and dog launched a barrage of requests at my unsuspecting mind, “Mommy-Honey-I-need-want-have-you-seen-where-is-my-that-favorite-only-other-purple-squishy-buzzing-robot-princess-dinosaur-car-keys-brief-case-BARK-BARK.”

 And that was it, my mind left. Of course, I didn’t know it at first. Then later that day during a meeting, someone asked me, “When can we expect your final report?” To which I replied, “Banana.”

I can’t say for certain if my mind is lost (possibly under the fridge) or if my mind simply ran-away (in the middle of the night with the tooth fairy).

Either way my mind is gone and I have to say, I am in no hurry to get it back. When the kids ask me if I have seen a particular belonging I simply respond, “I like cheese.” And when my husband inquires about dinner, I look him lovingly in the eye and say, “The Love Boat.”

Requests both at home and work have dropped dramatically and I am taking this time to shop around carefully for a new mind, as sooner or later I will be forced to return to the land of coherent thoughts.

I have checked both EBay and Etsy and am torn between the durability of a “steel trap mind” and the warm fuzziness of a knitted “beautiful mind.”  Until then if anyone needs anything they are SOL. (Sundae-Otter-Lunchbox).