Help! Where are my words, and how do I use them?
This is not a parenting post. Yes, we are often advised to tell our children to use their words, and for good reason. (Words are more fun than howling.) But this is not about Owlet and Platypup. Platypup can barely say “A-goo” for goodness’ sake. This is about me.
Let’s start with how I lost most of my useful words upon becoming pregnant the first time. Regained a few once Owlet was born, then lost them again and more besides while gestating Platypup. Seriously. Brain = mush. People would attempt to converse with me and I would realize it. While lying in bed. Two days later.
My words are coming back slowly. The blogging is helping more than I’d imagined it could.
I’ll be asked by well-meaning, polite friends and students, “how was your weekend?”
And I’ll sort of squint and tilt my head to the side. Weekend. Yes, I recognize that concept. I think that happened recently.
But I don’t remember a bit of it.
“Um, good, yeah.”
If I’m really lucky, I’ll remember to ask about their weekend. This happens about half the time. Afterward (while lying in bed, two days later) I will prod my sluggish grey matter into remembering the weekend past. Occasionally I will succeed prior to falling asleep.
It’s not fair that in exchange for the superpower of childbirthing I forfeit my words. Kind of a Little Mermaid sort of raw deal. But she had a singing, dancing, Jamaican crab to help out. I feel kinda jipped. Where’s my hot crustacean band? (Great, now I’m hungry. Damn nursing appetite. Maybe that’s why I have no resources to devote to silly things like “memory” and “speech.”)
Here’s a perfect example. Three times (three times!) in the past week I’ve been talking to someone. That person has been wearing a gorgeous item of clothing and/or jewelry. I make a mental note and attach it to my mental fridge. The sticky stuff isn’t good enough. It falls to the floor. I find it. While lying in bed. Two days later.
I’m hoping this is because I’m a good listener. I’m so attentive to the conversation at hand that I can’t contain an irrelevant thought about attire.
Anyway, if your name starts with C, M, or T, I love your necklace and/or shirt. It looks gorgeous on you. If applicable, it brings out your eyes in a fantastic way. (Disregard if the item in question does not in any way resemble or enhance your eye color.) I meant to tell you. In person. Two days ago.