Ever since becoming a Mum, the clowns have been the tip of the iceberg and the chaos of my life means I feel like I’m permanently in the middle of one long pantomime.
Take this morning, for instance. All was going too well. It was 9:30 and I needed to leave the house by 9:45. My baby and I were both washed and fed, I’d managed to wash and dry my hair and apply make-up (now I’m just showing off!), the bag was packed and the bottle was in the bottle maker. All that was left to do was get my boy out of the vibrating chair (a godsend on a morning) and into the car seat and we were ready to roll. We left the house at 10:05. During those 35 minutes I had two costume changes (one of the baby and one of me) due to a fountain incident (mothers of little boys know), I’d soaked through my cabbage and needed another round of leaves (if you haven’t read my previous posts all is explained here) and I’d lost my purse.
Such is the chaos of my life and house, that there were approximately 3,000 places the purse could have been and I was tearing about the house like a crazy woman, swearing and throwing things around and even at one point stamping my foot in frustration (and I wonder why my 11 week old flings his arms and legs around when he’s angry?!). In among this the baby was screaming along as though he had also lost his purse.
I decided I had somehow lost it at the local shopping centre the day before and had a meltdown that resulted in me storming out of the house without my phone so that by the time I reached my destination I had concluded I’d accidentally dropped it on the way into the car and run it over with my tyres (oh yeah, forgot to mention I’m a drama queen and the phone was obviously just on the couch at home). I was also a nervous wreck.
It turned out the purse was safe and well underneath the baby’s jacket he’d worn the day before.
The almost exact same thing happened to me this evening but replace the purse with a dummy and the wee with projectile baby sick and instead of getting changed I just went out with sick on my trousers (and inside my bra from where it had trickled down my top). Don’t even get me started on the times this has happened with an up the back poo.
It’s not just getting out of the house in a morning. I sometimes can’t even remember if I’ve brushed my teeth 10 minutes after doing it. Thankfully it’s so chaotic that I’ve usually got some toothpaste in my hair which is a good indicator. I don’t know what day it is from one to the next. I put milk in my tea twice. I walk out of the house with my top unbuttoned and my bra on show because I’ve been feeding or pumping and just forgot to do it up. I walk into rooms and it’s like my memory has been wiped and I have no idea what I’m doing in there. I start jobs and get distracted and go back to them hours later before getting distracted again (this can go on for weeks).
The house permanently looks like a bomb went off even though all I seem to do apart from look after the baby is tidy up. And when I manage to see people who don’t have babies I’m distracted because I’m trying to catch the baby’s sick before it hits another human or I’m wondering if people can smell my cabbage or I’m just hoping to god that I didn’t leave a tap running somewhere.
On said trip to the shopping centre yesterday I was practically running from place to place to cram everything in before my boy woke from a swimming-induced extended nap, only to get home and realise I’d forgotten the main thing I’d gone for.
Baby brain is not something you just get in pregnancy – I just hope it stops before my baby turns 18!!
As an aside, I have been writing this post in among the chaos for almost four hours. It was the only thing that has kept me from screaming into a pillow. That and thinking to myself ‘it’s behind you!’ as my baby vomited down the back of my neck.