I always considered myself pretty sane and level headed. I was always the mom of the any friend group. Ready with extra batteries, packs of sugar and a Band-Aid in my purse (maybe that makes me the grandma of any group). I was the one with a calm and logical response or idea in even the most crazy of circumstances. Level headed in emergencies. I guess I was built to be a nurse. In case you haven’t learned this for yourself yet, yes, I was the boring one. Boring or not, since having children I’ve noticed my sanity slowly slipping away and my crazy, like my greys, peeking out more and more.
#1. I have no control over my emotions: I go from red-faced with anger at the dogs for knocking the baby over to tearing seconds later when he hugs me extra tight before his nap. My anger is out of control, nearing aneurysm level. The dogs, the dinner I am inevitability burning, the baby screaming all at once while I try to listen to music over it makes my brain bubble inside my skull. Then all of a sudden I can go full-blown ugly-cry when “Anything Like Me” by Brad Paisley comes on. I am seriously fighting the water works just thinking of the song. Any song, movie, quote about babies, husbands, growing old/up can pretty much turn me into this.
I was never a crier. Angry, oh yes. Bitchy? Of course. Crying? None of that. Now look at me. I’m a mess.
#2. I can’t finish a thought: It is astounding to me that I even have a blog. I have about twenty ideas I start about things to post daily. About two half thoughts remain by the end of the day and at that point I’m so exhausted I have no energy to think anymore. A coherent sentence is a win for me these days. At work I go in the supply room at least four times a day with no clue why I even walked in there. I thought this shit wasn’t supposed to start for a while. I have half a conversation with everyone and trying to get anything other than a headache with the children around is just impossible.
#3 I refer to myself in third person: Mommy needs a hug. Mommy needs to finish the laundry and rewarm her coffee again. Mama is going to pee now okay? Mama is having a nervous breakdown. All work and no play makes Mommy a dull girl.
#4 I talk to inanimate objects: I found myself telling Logan’s Hulk figure to just freaking stay put. I lost it on a full cup of milk that I knocked over myself this afternoon. As if it was the cup’s fault. In retrospect that’s pretty insane even though screw you stupid freaking cup.
#5 I avoid eye contact in public: I’ve pretty much adopted the mentality of my dogs. If I don’t make eye contact, they can’t see me. When the baby turns into Regan MacNeil (complete with vomit) and the big one has a sudden urge to try out for the 500-meter dash in the middle of Target the best thing is to keep calm and move on as they say. Head straight out the door without looking up at all the people questioning your life choices as you inevitably are.
#6 I steal: Not intentionally of course but performing #5 I have in the past walked out with a sticker book, rubber chicken dog toy and/or pretty much anything the kids could get their grubby klepto hands on. I leave feeling like a criminal but the walk of shame takes on a whole new meaning when you have to get out of car seats and walk back into the store with two screaming kids to the return counter with a romance novel and a pack of slim jims you never wanted. My husband gets two surprises. Thanks Logan.
#7 I have an unlimited knowledge about specific things: I used to be able to have a conversation with pretty much anyone about almost anything. Now unless you want to discuss the sexual tension between Chris and Lela on Sesame Street or the similarities between Cretoxyrhina and sharks of today (thanks Dinosaur Train), I got nothing. I might be able to discuss how much of a dick Shere Khan is to Mogli but it depends on the day. Mogli is a little self-important jerk though so whatever.
#8 I’m unkempt: At any given time I might have vomit, sweat, poop or all of the above in my hair. In public. Be warned when hugging me. I most of the time am able to keep it together but there are days when I just plain don’t give a shit. My messy bun, stained grey sweatpants and yesterday’s puked on t-shirt for the painful grocery trip. If my kids are bad that day, and you feel its your job to let me know about the importance of sleeping when they nap or offer a kind quip such as “you’ve got your hands full” I will come at you like a rapid raccoon, claws and all.
#9 I talk to myself: My mini lists in my head are no longer in my head. I spend the whole day recounting, out loud, the multiple plans I had to reorganize and try to remember what the hell is next (see #2). I’d say a third of the words I speak during the day are just curses whispered under my breath about the current state of my life. What Mama wouldn’t give for a fruity rum cocktail and three hours of silence.
I also want at least one more of these tiny dictators to add to the madness. Isn’t that the definition of insanity- doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results? So I’ve lost it. I am certifiable and I wouldn’t change a thing.