My Beloved told me that a large study found that there is no such thing as baby brain. Huh.
Based on a qualitative study (me) I'm here to say that's nonsense.
I can almost pin-point the precise instance my brain started (sadly true, only started,) wistfully looking up to the light of Clear Headed Thinking to return after each baby.
However I am willing to say that maybe it's not 'baby brain' per se - maybe it is linked to having the life milk sucked out of me by little milkers. I can almost feel the squishy stuff in my brain being converted into milk as they latch on and suck.
Experiment one: Feeding toddler. Trying to think. Fuzz. Fuzz. Fuzz. I know there's a thought in there somewhere. But my brain just can't hold onto it. Fuzz. Fuzz. Fuzz.
Experiment two: Feeding baby. Someone talks to me. "Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah." Aw... isn't she adorable. "Blah Blah Blah."
Um. What did you say?
Seeing that a vast amount of my day is spent with the Poppet or the Sprocket latched on, a lot of my time is spent in the land of fuzz fuzz fuzz blah blah blah. (Aw, isn't baby adorable)
Up until now I haven't really minded living in the land of Fuzz Fuzz Fuzz Blah Blah Blah (aw... isn't she adorable) but I am beginning to long for the country of coherent thoughts, ideas and verve.
If anyone knows where I can buy a ticket to the land of coherent thought I would be very, very grateful.
Oh mind of mine, I miss you. I can hardly remember you, but what I do remember I think of fondly.
Uh oh. Hungry baby. Fuzz fuzz fuzz...
Based on a qualitative study (me) I'm here to say that's nonsense.
I can almost pin-point the precise instance my brain started (sadly true, only started,) wistfully looking up to the light of Clear Headed Thinking to return after each baby.
However I am willing to say that maybe it's not 'baby brain' per se - maybe it is linked to having the life milk sucked out of me by little milkers. I can almost feel the squishy stuff in my brain being converted into milk as they latch on and suck.
Experiment one: Feeding toddler. Trying to think. Fuzz. Fuzz. Fuzz. I know there's a thought in there somewhere. But my brain just can't hold onto it. Fuzz. Fuzz. Fuzz.
Experiment two: Feeding baby. Someone talks to me. "Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah." Aw... isn't she adorable. "Blah Blah Blah."
Um. What did you say?
Seeing that a vast amount of my day is spent with the Poppet or the Sprocket latched on, a lot of my time is spent in the land of fuzz fuzz fuzz blah blah blah. (Aw, isn't baby adorable)
Up until now I haven't really minded living in the land of Fuzz Fuzz Fuzz Blah Blah Blah (aw... isn't she adorable) but I am beginning to long for the country of coherent thoughts, ideas and verve.
If anyone knows where I can buy a ticket to the land of coherent thought I would be very, very grateful.
Oh mind of mine, I miss you. I can hardly remember you, but what I do remember I think of fondly.
Uh oh. Hungry baby. Fuzz fuzz fuzz...
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