May I have your attention...please?

At breakfast this morning, B asks what O is having for breakfast (because, you know, God forbid they have the same thing. Or God forbid they have something different. Depends on the day).
"Oatmeal is having O" I answer. Twice.
"Mom!" he asks, "Why are you talking funny?!" He is staring at me. His face clearly says..."my mother has lost her mind".
I am? What did I say? Oatmeal is having...oh, right.
"Sorry B, O is having oatmeal for breakfast".
He smiles and says "Mom, you are so funny."
Yes, I am. Too bad it's not intentional.
A few minutes later, I tell N to brush her shoes and get her teeth on. She laughs, thinks very little of what I have just said, and does what she knows I meant to say.

The other day we were in the car and my mind had wandered...to what we needed to get at the store, what I was going to make for dinner, how nice it would be to be sitting on a beach somewhere with a drink with a colorful umbrella in it...or a colorful drink with an umbrella in it..see what I mean? I was jolted out of my little fantasy by N screaming "Ow! Stop it!"
"B! Don't hit your sister!" I scream say firmly.
"Well mom, you just told him it was OK," N informs me.
I did?
"He just told you he was going to hit me, and you said OK!"
 Whoops. Sorry. I have no recollection of this. I must have thought someone was asking me if I wanted another colorful drink.
"Um, Mom, you can't tell him it's OK to hit me and then yell at him for hitting me". Love this girl. She is so smart. I just wish she wouldn't use it against me.

I think this all started when I had O. We were in the hospital, with our cute, sweet, adorable baby boy, and the nurses would come in and ask his name. I loved that N was there, as the proud big sister, to tell them her new brother's name. I loved that when someone came in and said "How cute! What's his name?", I could look at N, smile brightly, and say "Go ahead. Tell them what his name is, honey". I loved this, because I couldn't remember my brand new child's name to save my life. Granted, I was in a post c-section haze, and I've since heard that the effects of anesthesia may stay with you for months--even years--after surgery--a fact I am now clinging to with every brain cell I have. Yup, both of them.

I'm pretty sure I was smarter before I had kids. I was at least more articulate. It's hard to remember back that far (my oldest is six-and-a-half. Not all that long, you say? Try it in parenting years. It's like dog years) but I'm pretty sure that I used to be able to have a real conversation, on the spur of the moment, and not sound like someone for whom English is a second language.

From what I can recall, I used to be able to call, for example, the cable company, succinctly tell them what I needed, and have it taken care of. Now, by the time a real person comes on the phone, I have no idea why I've called them. I usually try to make small talk until it comes back to me. They probably get off the phone and think "Wow! That lady was so friendly". Nope. Just brain dead.

And though it's hard to believe now, I used to be able to have an actual phone conversation with a friend, and really find out what was going on in their life, and tell them (effectively) what was going on in mine. These days, of course, I rarely talk on the phone, because someone is always grabbing me, hanging off me, screaming for me, or spilling something. But on the rare occasion when I have the house to myself (OK, that hasn't actually happened since 2005. But occasionally I do have a room in the house to myself) and try to have a phone conversation, I realize...this is still much harder than it used to be.

Maybe it's my attention span. I try, I really try, to give that conversation my undivided attention, but there's always something there, just at the back of my mind..that wont stop calling my name..Mommy! Mommy! Oh, wait that's not my actual name. Maryann....did you take something out for dinner? Did you check N's homework? Did you throw that laundry in the dryer? Did you refill your wine glass? (ha! like I'd ever need to be reminded of that!). If there's not something on my mind, there's always something that grabs my attention. Who left a crayon in the dishwasher? Why is there mud on the toaster? How did those children pick the lock and get out of their rooms? I feel like a walking advertisement for ADHD meds.

Maybe I just have too much going on. When O was about ten weeks old (or was it B?) I went back to work. It was only three hours a night, two nights a week, but three hours is a long time for a nursing infant who doesn't like bottles all that much, and even longer for his father who was home with him. So, since my office is five minutes away, I would nurse, go see a client, come home and nurse, and go back and see a client. Stressful, but it worked for the most part, and to my knowledge, I only met with one client with my nursing bra still undone. I still picture that (poor, traumatized) man writing on an evaluation form, "Maryann is so laid back. She really lets it all hang out".

Eventually, whichever child that was nursing stopped, and things got easier, though I would often feed little whoever-it-was their baby food right before I went to work to lighten the load slightly for Jimmy. As in, I fed him, walked out the door, got to work, and saw a client. And again, to my knowledge, I only met with one client with a very large clump of baby food in my hair, which I didn't notice until I got home that night.

So, what is it? Am I not as smart? Do I no longer have an attention span? Is it just stress? Who knows. All I know is, somewhere between becoming pregnant with my first child and giving birth to my third (do they still call it "giving birth" if you've had c-sections? I've always wondered that...), I have apparently lost....something. The good thing, though, is that I have been forced to lower my standards. If I haven't told anyone to beat up their siblings, if I've called everyone by the right name for the whole day (OK, fine, most of the day), and if I don't inadvertently expose myself to a client, it's a good day.

As long as I don't forget where I left my wine.




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