Where did my brain go?

imageThis is the third time I have written this post. I am not joking. The first time I forgot to save the draft. The second time I hit “new post” instead of “publish” and POOF it was gone. Fortunately this post is about my incurable case of baby brain so the scenario lends itself nicely to my story.

I used to be a smart person. Back in my P.B days (Pre Baby) I could do things just once in a competent fashion. I knew why I walked into rooms, I put things back in places where I could find them again. I always knew baby brain was a thing but I assumed it went away post birth. This is not the case. I strongly suspect that when I gave birth to our beautiful son half of my brain popped out after him and after 7 months of this I don’t think it’s ever coming back. I now have an IQ of 5 and the memory of a goldfish with Alzheimers.

It’s the simplest things that I really struggle with. For example trying to pack the nappy bag to go out. Hugh and I have an outing once a day so I pack the nappy bag in the morning full of everything I need. I noticed we were low on nappies so I went upstairs to get some. All normal except that I had to up and down 4 TIMES before I got the damn thing! I don’t have a big staircase, it takes less than 1 minute to climb it and yet in that one minute the reason for going up completely leaves my mind. On the first go I ended up straightening the bed, second time I opened the bedroom window to let some air in. Third time I actually went into his room (getting warmer) but just ended up getting his outfit ready for the day and turning off the music he sleeps to. The worst part is that every single time I got back downstairs I was like “oh yeah, nappies” and turned around and went straight back up!

The fact I even remembered nappies is a miracle. I have gone out without nappies and wipes before. Just a small trip out to get some much needed caffeine so I decided to downsize from the Tardis (my usual nappy bag) and just take enough supplies for one nappy change. Smart right? That’s right, I’m an ideas woman!

Got into town and realised Hugh had wet his nappy. Cue mental high fives all round for bringing nappy and wipes. I’m such a smart Mum. The self congratulations ceased once I had tipped my handbag upside down and realised that my carefully crafted “nappy to go” package was still sitting on the kitchen table. Put the pants back on my son and went to Coles. Bought nappies, wipes and oh look, baby foods on sale and we need some bananas… what a successful shop. Wait for the lift for 5 minutes to go back upstairs to the parents room, get Hugh’s pants off and pull out a nappy and get the……. the wipes? Starting to lose my cool a little bit. Where the f$&k are the WIPES????? Downstairs. At the checkout where I left them. Again. I had two options at this point. Option 1 was to go back downstairs again and get them. I went with option 2 – put the pants back on my son, left him in his wet nappy and went and got my coffee. I’m not proud of what happened but I had just reached that point where it was too hard now and I quit.

I have put pantry items in the fridge, milk back in the pantry, gone to the shops 3 times to buy one (usually crucial) item and then my top pet hate, been unable to complete sentences because I can remember basic……. oh yeah, words.

As I write this I have just remembered I need to pack some bottles and formula before we go out. If you’ll excuse me, I’d better go and start the half hour process of going forwards and back from the kitchen before I remember what I’m in there for now.

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Things I have loved this week:

The library! Buying books while I’m on Maternity leave has been costing me a fortune so bring on the fabulous and free library! Plus with their E-books range I can borrow new books on my iPad without even leaving the house.

Corn! Following on from last weeks post I have discovered Hugh loves corn. Adding it to food has suddenly made him appreciate Mummy’s cooking and makes me feel like I’m suddenly the Nigella Lawson of baby food.

IKEA Bevara clips! Not only are they handy around the house but if you put them in a ziplock bag they are a fun, noisy, colourful toy for the little person in your life.

 

Babies and Breadmaking

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It is a truth universally acknowledged for families everywhere that all babies eat better than their poor, malnourished parents.

Back in our P.B. (Pre Baby) days Tim and I ate pretty well. Nice steaks, salads, vegetables, foods with nutritional value, you know how it goes. Sometimes on weekends we would go all out and make stuff like “jus” and “rosti”. Truly amazing times. But that was pre preganacy.

My first trimester of pregnancy was a culinary disaster. The smell of everything made me heave and when I did feel like eating something I would devour it and then usually bring it back up again wthin the hour, thus ruining my taste for that food for the rest of my life. Ok, that’s dramatic but it was certainly for the rest of the first trimester but I digress.

Hugh’s first few months were a sleep deprived blur and we ate anything that could be cooked in 5 minutes and eaten with one hand but then over night we hit the 4 month mark and suddenly it was time to introduce solids to our little bundle of joy. After nearly a year of creative cooking hiatus I was thrown into a state of panic that I feel can only be compared to a master chef contestant about to undertake a pressure test with a small Matt Preston waiting in his highchair to judge me.

In the quest to be the perfect parent I have become consumed with the perfect most nutritional way to prepare for Matt Jnr. When I cook for Tim and it’s on the fly, veggies cooked and sloppily mashed, meat maybe over cooked or sometimes under. The other day we ate packet salad and some freezer salmon while Hugh ate perfectly poached chicken with a hint of thyme, steamed spinach, pumpkin and peas, blitzed into a fine purée. All up Hugh’s dinner took me 40 minutes of chopping, steaming, poaching, pureeing to the best of my ability and what did my small sweet little human do?  Sobbed through every mouthful. Wailed hysterically while I tried to lovingly shovel spoonfuls of culinary delight into my son’s gob while he threw his head around like one of those clown games at a carnival. 10% got in the mouth, 40% on cheeks, eyebrows, lap and hair and the other 50% remained in the bowl.

Last night I was feeling lazy and opened one of those squeezy tubes of vegetables – pumpkin, potato and swedes. And what did the small human do? Ate every mouthful. Every bit was consumed without a whinge or a wimped. Rafferty’s Garden 1 – Mummy 0.

Some days I think I put so much pressure on myself to be the perfect Mum. At the end of the day he’s still alive, he’s got some food in him. But I can’t easily shake the burning desire to do something “homey” and “Mum like” for my son. Hence the bread. We got a bread maker from our best friends for our wedding and I made a few unsuccessful attempts early on but now I have a child so I have pulled it out again and went through the steps one by one and what do you know! I made bread!

I cut a piece and lovingly toasted it. Beautiful home made bread for my darling son. And what did he do? Gummed on it for a minute and then threw it over the side of the highchair onto the floor.

Every week I now make homemade bread and every morning I throw half a soggy slice in the bin after I’ve picked it up from the floor. I’ve made peace with it. One day my boy will devour everything I put in front of him. Until then I will continue to try and be not offended by my little food critic and his preference for pre packaged food over his Mamas meals.