I don’t know if science has established a timeframe in which mothers “outgrow” the damage to the brain caused by their children, but I can say here today that it might well be possible not to.
Picture it: the A&W Drive-Thru. MomG* and my oldest son and my daughter were out with me to pick out paint chips at Canadian Tire, and we needed something for lunch. MomG passed me a coupon for a meal deal comprised of two Teen burgers and two Mama burgers, four orders of fries, and four soft drinks for $19.99.
I ordered the food, which was distracting enough on its own because I could not easily understand the crew member working the window and he had to double check with someone else about the existence of this particular voucher.
As we waited for the bags and drinks to be passed through the window, I blanked. I’d paid for lunch for four people, but in that moment I thought there were only three people in the car including myself, so we’d have to figure out what to do with the fourth burger, fries, and root beer. I cannot even tell you which person I didn’t think was in the car.
Is this how it ends? It has bothered me more than I’ve ever admitted publicly that my once photographic memory has gradually become less than in the past 19 years, and fourteen years have passed since my last pregnancy.
Maybe it’s the onset of sympathy placenta brain? Or the summer heat has finally baked me?
Either way, next time maybe someone else who is capable of a proper head count should be the one to drive. Clearly, my role should be that of sleepy front seat passenger.
Do you suppose he’s come up with a cerebrum regeneratus spell?
(*MomG = mother of my grandchild. She has a name and is a wonderful young lady, but I’m not sure if she wants to be fully identified on my blog.)