Since I had P nearly 20 months ago (who the what the frick), my blogging mojo has packed its bags, shit on my bed, and written a "Dear Pru" letter in blood. I get really excited about a blog post idea, but then complacency and my baby-lobotomised half-brain set in and I give up, instead choosing to curl up and watch television of varying quality. The inspiration is there, it just doesn't translate to actually sitting down at the laptop and typing. Even now I'm pausing between words, hazily trying to recall the mere gist of what I was trying to say. Fucking brains.
I had grand plans of a thoughtful post on the NHS, or the post I've been dying to do for months on the appalling gender stereotyping which pops up in the media. I have been stockpiling material for this post, but if I wrote it now it would sound like a ninth-grader's ruminations on her burgeoning feminism. That is to say, cliche and melodramatic. Brain, come back! All is forgiven. You know your weird desire to convince me that I genuinely love Beyonce? Swept under the rug. Beyonce who? Just come back and work for me again. I think even P has a bigger vocabulary than I do. It's probably quite telling that I spend far too much of my day saying "poop".
I need something. Some kind of pill, a stiff drink. Any suggestions as to rid yourself of fuzzy, post-baby brain? Wasn't this to fade after pregnancy? Fuck.
11 comments:
Man, can I sympathize! Or should I say "womyn" if we're going to be getting in touch with our inner 9th grade feminists?
I feel like I'm just now getting my mind back (in fleeting spurts really, but still, it's exhilarating) and it's been... shit... five plus years for me? Not counting the mindfuck of fertility meds that started even before that.
It'll happen, really it will. Then we'll start menopause.
Sell your baby and get out of the house more. Being child free seems like good fodder for blogging.
I don't know, but it's hitting hard here. It's worse now then it ever was while pregnant or in the newborn-can't sleep, clowns will eat me stage. I can't speak without messing something up. Can't type without typos, and in general make no sense. Luckily (?) I have enough personal drama to still blog.
Well..I'm ten years into this parenting thing now...and it still feels quite like someone sprayed my head full of insulation. So good luck with that..hehe.
At least this way we all feel kind of sorry for you and comment. If you were to get all political and controversial? Meh. Not so much.
I think you have an acute case of prolonged momnesia. Oh, and I have the same thing.
As a bonus, I can say with certainty that it gets even worse after you have a second one. Plus my feet went up another half-size.
i find it ebbs and flows. i think i have nothing left to write, and bam...the posts start flowing.
and, apropos of what may said, i'm damned glad i'm never having a second one, because i'd have to kill myself if my feet got any bigger.
Uh... what was the question?
I hear you, sister. But if it helps, I'm in awe of your ability to post at all, not to mention make sense and be funny and thought-provoking and use the words "burgeoning" and "poop" in the same post.
Doesn't help? Ah well. What if I told you it took me five minutes to write this comment?
I suffer from this same disease. From what I understand, the cure is sending the child to university, which is just in time for menopause (as another commented posted). Sweet! We'll be stupid forever!
Although I do think I am qualified to be a puppy trainer - I repeat the same instructions over and over again all day long. Same thing, really - raising puppies and toddlers.
The ONLY way I have made this work, is I FORCE myself to sit down every morning and try my damndest to churn something out. (Why yes, I am OCD, thankyouverymuch).
But shit, I still think you're fucking hilarious.
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