Pregnancy Brain

There is a phenomenon that happens to pregnant women called Pregnancy Brain. It's quite similar to sleep deprivation -- you seem fine to the casual observer, but have serious memory problems and often times will do things that just don't quite make sense.

Case and point:

I take the train to and from work, and drive to the train station. Since the train station's parking lot is tiny (and I feel you are also broadcasting that you've left your car there all day for anyone to take advantage of), I park on the residential streets around the station. Once a month the city preforms street cleaning so parking is banned on the south-bound side on Tuesdays and then on the north-bound side on Wednesdays. Parking on those days is especially difficult since there are only 1/2 of the usual spots available.

Yesterday was the first Wednesday of November, so parking was not allowed on the north-bound side. I drove around a bit and found a spot. Good to go, I parked and walked to the train, worked all day, took the train home and walked back to my car.

Or I should say I walked back to where my car had been.

As I approached my parking spot, I saw there was a Lexus parked there. I don't drive a Lexus. I looked at the spot, and then at the very large "NO PARKING 9am-12pm STREET CLEANING -- TOW ZONE" sign directly next to the spot. And I realized I am an idiot. I was parked perfectly well on the north-bound side of the street. Pregnancy brain.

CRAP.

So I start walking. It's like just over 1 mile to our house from the train station, so I figured I'd walk it and deal with finding where the heck my car had ended up along the way. (And have this time to vent and deal with the fact that I had just basically asked the city to tow my car -- please! I'll leave it right here for you!)

I called my boss, explained I am an idiot and would not be into work the next day (today). I called my nanny and told her I'd be late. I called my husband and complained to his voicemail (he was on a plane...which I knew but still wanted to drag him into the situation). Then I called 311 to find out how to get my car back.

They connected me to the District 6 pound. District 6 said they didn't have my car, and usually cars were just relocated for street cleaning and not towed (good to know). So I called the relocation people and they said no, they had not relocated any cars from where I had been parked.

Double crap. My car is gone. Lost. Because I'm an idiot. And have pregnancy brain.

I start thinking this all through -- I have the only car seat in my car. So we are going to have to buy a new car seat so we can get John around in Tom's car. But then what if they find my car? Can I return a slightly used car seat? Will insurance cover a rental car?

I get home, thank our nanny for staying a bit late (I think she was trying not to laugh at me), and start our night time routine with John. As John and I are sitting and watching Curious George (yes, he's under 2 years old and we let him watch some TV -- this is not a time to judge), I start telling him that I can't remember my walk from my car to the train that morning. I told him (yes, I told my 19 month old son) that I didn't remember turning the corner I would have to turn to get from my parking spot to the train...or walking up the street that I had parked on.

What was I doing while I walked to the train?
I was emailing Alexis.
What did I email to Alexis?
It was about the nose saline solution. And I told her I had just gotten rock star parking.

Wait.

ROCK STAR PARKING?!?!?!?!?!?!??!????????????????????????

I was parked somewhere else!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It all came back to me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I KNOW WHERE MY CAR IS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Entirely a different street. And a different block.

And I am a clear sufferer of PREGNANCY BRAIN TO THE EXTREME!!!!!

Relief. (And annoyance!)

Tom drove me to my car this morning, and it was there, happily parked in a lovely spot with no restrictions what-so-ever.

Tee-hee...

Free candy!

I love dressing John up for Halloween! I am seriously considering having him wear his costume more often -- it's warm and he likes it (especially the feet), so why not?
And I had so much fun trick or treating with him and REFUSE to let the news story about what parents should really fear about Halloween ruin it for me. The news story that detailed that I shouldn't worry about people putting needles into popcorn balls, but what I should really worry about is all of the sex offenders and H1N1 laced candy that is going to be handed out.

Newspeople, please. We're all freaked out enough. Let us enjoy forcing our children to dress up like creatures and beg for candy from strangers.

They are just so cute doing it!

Dear Metra Rider (there may be cursing)

Dear Metra Rider,

When the train is packed full of commuters and every seat is taken, you do not have the right to take up an extra seat with your bag. And when the visibly pregnant lady asks you if she can sit in that extra seat, you definitely don't have the right to sigh and roll your eyes at her.

Allow me to assist in your confusion of where your bag should be placed -- you see that bag rack that runs the entire length of the train? Yes, the one about 1.5 feet from your lazy butt? It would love to fulfill it's destiny as the holder of your bag.

Consider this fair warning. If you do it again, the pregnant lady *may* sit on you.

Sincerely,

One overly annoyed rider on behalf of all of your fellow commuters

Tough guy

My lil man has got me all figured out. One little "mama" out of his mouth and I'm ready to do whatever is needed. And if he adds his open arms reaching to me...well...let's just say some "parenting" experts would take exception to what they may see as the mama being played like a puppet.
But I'm ok with it. He's only going to be a baby for so long. So when he bumps his head and cries and rubs it while walking up to me for extra loving and sympathy, I'm ready to dish it out.

Some of you may be thinking, "But wait -- what if he really hurt his head?"

Well, take a gander at this:

One ripped off nail + Zero tears = He's got me all figured out.

Flu Shot

I hate the internet. I realize this is an ironic thing to say in a blog, but it's true. There's just too much information available, just sitting there ready to freak me out. And if you don't like the answer you found, you can always find another one to calm you down or freak you out more.

The most recent event topic I had to look up was the amount of mercury in a flu shot.

I got my flu shot a couple weeks ago, after my monthly OB visit where I was told to go get my flu shot. I completed the required form, indicating I am pregnant. Got the shot. Good for me and Lil Lady Lydon.

Next stop was Walgreens. While I was waiting at the pharmacy, another pregnant lady was talking to the pharmacist about her flu shot -- she needed one, and wanted to be sure she was getting the mercury-free type since she was pregnant.

What? Wait.

Was I supposed to specifically say I needed a mercury-free shot? First of all, I didn't know to ask for one. Second, I had already gotten the shot -- did I really want to know at this point if I had gotten a mercury-free one? No. Yes. Well...no. I mean yes.

So I called the place where I got my shot and it turns out that no, I had not gotten a mercury-free shot. Even though I had indicated I was pregnant on the form. I was then told that the level of mercury in the shot was so low that there was more mercury in a tuna sandwich (which my doctor wants me to continue eating), and that the mercury-free shots are basically a marketing gimmick.

Well, what else was this mercury-shot-giver going to tell me?

So I called my doctor, and she confirmed -- nothing to worry about. So what do I do? Worry.

Then I go online to read about the levels of mercury on my own. And this is just one example of what I find:
Fucking internet.

So my next step was to email Tom and tell him what was going on and that I was told not to worry. Because I share my worry with those around me. He said not to worry.

So now I share my worry with you. But I'm not worried...

Indecent??

John and I are taking swimming lessons together because that boy needs to learn to swim (doesn't need to become a great swimmer or anything -- just needs to alleviate his mama's fears of him near water). So far he's liking the class enough -- likes throwing the toys into the pool, puts up with the lesson itself, and usually is done about 10 min before class ends. Good enough.

This past weekend as we entered the gym, we were told that the manager had decided that children were no longer allowed into opposite sex locker rooms.

Excuse me? Why?

Because, in the manager's ultimate wisdom, "indecent" things happen in a locker room that the opposite sex shouldn't see. This leads to several questions:
1. Does this manager have any idea where babies come from? John has seen it all -- trust me.
2. Does an 18 month old really have any idea what he is seeing? ...I mean come on.
3. What the heck is going on in that locker room?? Shouldn't that be policed a bit more rather than keeping the BABIES out?

And their solution -- use the family changing room. Of course. Because having naked women AND men together is MUCH MORE APPROPRIATE.

For The New Baby!

What do you really need for a new baby? I mean when you already have 1 child, so you've gotten all of the basic stuff?

Not too much. Maybe a double stroller. A new set of bedroom furniture.

But not too much else...unless you have an Aunt who is *very* generous...an Aunt who insists that for the new baby what you really need is APPLIANCES! YES!

Welcome to our new dishwasher and refrigerator!