Mom Brain

a word salad of thoughts and links

If you are a mom or know a mom or have a mom or somehow you exist on this planet without any of those qualifications, yet you have access to the world wide web, you have probably heard of the term mom brain. It’s the colloquial name for the brain fog and memory loss experienced by young mothers, especially those who are pregnant or in the postpartum period. I know diddly about neurology but can contribute some anecdotal evidence to the fact that this phenomenon is real as fuck. Sometimes, I trail off in the middle of a sentence while talking with my husband and look up to see him expecting me to finish my thought, but poof, the thought has vanished.  The other day, after much searching, I discovered I’d put my deodorant in the fridge. That same day, I also ordered a forty-dollar pasta dinner for myself without thinking much of it (I said 40 bones? That’s New York for ya! Bada bing! In a cartoonish Brooklyn accent), and it turns out it was a fully catered meal. I leave lids off of jars of medicine. I go into rooms looking for something and forget why I’m there. I see texts and fail to respond to them, and the guilt nips at me when I remember, weeks later, a conversation with someone I care about left in the lurch because I was distracted by some vague, looming anxiety.

ordered this thinking it was a meal for me, myself, and I — it turns out it was fit for a PTA meeting

My attention is distracted, my mind is scattered, my house is cluttered, the mail needs sorting, and because of all that, I often feel like an unspooling ball of thread. My brain, my damn mom brain, is trying to play catch up with the new constant stream of worries, inadequacies, dreams, aspirations, hopes, and fears that have arisen since having a child. There’s the small potatoes concerns– the dishes, the laundry, the diapers, the emptying of the diaper pale, the dog pissing on the rug again, the trying of new recipes, the infuriating process of interacting with the chaotic website on which said new recipe resides – and then there’s the medium potatoes – why is my son only eating bananas, how many bananas can one child eat, what happens when one day he gets sick of bananas– and then, of course, the bigger mammoth sized potatoes – how does one raise a good human, what if the planet dies while I try, should we all throw our phones into the ocean, how do I make sure my shit doesn’t become his shit. And so on.

This is all to say that I’m feeling a little too scattered this week to produce anything too thoughtful or funny or cohesive. So instead, I’m giving you fuckers some LINKS! Who doesn’t love a little clickity click, a little surfing of the web. Here are some things I’ve been reading, watching, loving, consuming – in no particular order.

TWO BOOKS

HELLO BEAUTIFUL is the book I am reading right now and I truly cannot put it down. It’s on Oprah’s list, honey, so you know moms all around the world are eating this shit up because we wisely do as Oprah tells us. Sometimes I stay away from Book Club picks (some deeply rooted hipster superiority complex I’m sure) but this one does not miss. A beautiful story of a family, set in my favorite place (Chicago!) that has grabbed me more than anything has in a while. I haven’t finished it, so it could always end insanely, but as of now, it’s got the full Mommy Blog Stamp of Approval (can I trademark that?)

Oprah liked it, and so did I, a story of this book and ~bread~

I also read WELLNESS which was a portrait of a marriage, also set in my favorite place (Chicago!) and while it was very Well Written it also felt like ok we get it, man, our culture SUCKS, man!!! Skewer it, bro! Sometimes, when reading, I want to be hopeful about the world, sue me! Wellness brought it home at the end, but it felt at times like it was trying to accomplish a scooch too much for one book. I think I’d recommend it, nevertheless, especially for parents and married people and lovers of a good Chicago backdrop.

A POD

I listened to this podcast, an episode of The Ezra Klein Show, recommended to me by one of my best friends (shoutout queen Ki), which talks about the parental policy differences between the United States and Sweden. Huge shocker, Sweden is doing a better job than we are. Sometimes I get sick of hearing about how good Sweden is, oh good for you Sweden, you’ve done it again, Sweden. Your happy, white, blonde, Nordic asses are really showing us.

Even so, there was a lot of good stuff that made me think, including an assertion from Ezra Klein and sociologist Caitlyn Collins, who discussed how uncommon it is in our current cultural landscape to discuss how fun parenting can be. “It is safe to confess your exhaustion; it is not safe to confess your joy without stating your privilege in six different ways.” Pop off, Ezra!

I myself am guilty of complaining about the hard parts of parenting (see the preamble to this very newsletter) before amplifying the many ways it’s wonderful. It reminded me to also take stock of how much joy having a son brings me: He’s so funny! He’s a people person! He loves being outside, seeing bunnies, and giving us hugs where he hangs onto our necks like he’s a little koala! To be with him is to be reminded of all the earthly splendor and delight that we get to experience as humans, and this podcast reminded me to focus more on the abundant joy.

A DRY but forgivable ROAST CHICKEN DINING EXPERIENCE and a LIVE SHOW

Last week I went into the city to get dinner with another bestie (shoutout queen Carly) and we ate at Café Luxemburg and celebrated our turning twenty-nine a month apart over some molten lava cake. I got the roast chicken, and it was dry (devastating, in some cases, unforgivable), but I would still return because of the excellent fries and the fact they brought tiny little ramekins of ketchup mustard and mayo to dip them in. A trio of dipping options? Color me pleased! I also got a mocktail (a “Cos-no”), which triggered my heartburn but was worth it. At this point, the only mocktail that wouldn’t trigger my heartburn would be a virgin white Russian (cold glass of milk) and even I am not willing to sacrifice my dignity with such an order.

After dinner, we saw Esther Perel at the Beacon. Esther is a popular couple’s therapist with an amazing podcast called Where Should We Begin. The show was dynamic, funny, and so damn thought-provoking. I’m a bitch who loves therapy and vulnerability and hearing people talk about their sex lives and trauma and whatnot, so if you’re closed off to such things (boomers, Irish Catholics, etc) you might not dig it, but I highly recommend checking out whether or not she’s coming to a city near you on tour.

SOMETHING I’M CONSIDERING BUYING

I tend to think skincare at large is a scam and an arm of the patriarchy, but even so, I often fall into the line of thinking that a certain product, a well-branded goo, will slow down my inevitable decay. I can’t use Retinol right now, which is product numero uno in decay-abatement, but I do use something called Snail Mucin, which makes me feel like a moist little slug in the garden: dewy, glistening, slick! I don’t know what type of skin I have, but I’m drawn to products that make my face feel positively wet. Which is why when I saw an influencer using this product, I felt an all-encompassing need to purchase the Ilia Face Milk. What does it do? No idea. Probably nothing. But if marketers out there are looking for someone who is easily duped by the words Face and Milk being crammed next to each other on a glass bottle, I’m your girl.