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No one ever told me about mum brain. One minute I’m a childless teacher successfully managing thirty lively kids whilst skilfully explaining the key reasons behind WW2, the next, in the thick of motherhood, I can barely create a meaningful sentence.
My husband is subject to an unrelenting game of ”Taboo” whereby I angrily throw descriptions of the thing I’m trying to say at him:
Me: The stuff you put on your toothbrush?
Him: Toothpaste!
Me: The stabby think we use to eat?
Him: A fork! (Him so pleased when he gets it first time).
I
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wish I could say it’s on the tip of my tongue – but it’s Nowhere. Fucking. Near.
It’s not just this though. Socialising is not as carefree as it once was. Chats with old friends/family/new mum friends often turn to something along the lines of:
”So what did you get up to at the weekend/yesterday/last night?” Shit. On the spot recall. It was all going so well…
Very often I leave a playgroup or coffee meetups mentally exhausted as I’ve tried to cling on to simple facts from the last couple of weeks. I might even have made notes prior to
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the event on what interesting things I have done recently (not much) to aid this recall.
Since when did motherhood mean revising life facts in order to socialise? Who am I if I can’t even express myself anymore? And the biggy – do those words ever come back?
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EmiliaH - 16 Jan 20
No one ever told me about mum brain. One minute I’m a childless teacher successfully managing thirty lively kids whilst skilfully explaining the key reasons behind WW2, the next, in the thick of motherhood, I can barely create a meaningful sentence.
My husband is subject to an unrelenting game of “Taboo” whereby I angrily throw descriptions of the thing I’m trying to say at him:
Me: The stuff you put on your toothbrush?
Him: Toothpaste!
Me: The stabby think we use to eat?
Him: A fork! (Him so pleased when he gets it first time).
I wish I could say it’s on the tip of my tongue – but it’s Nowhere. Fucking. Near.
It’s not just this though. Socialising is not as carefree as it once was. Chats with old friends/family/new mum friends often turn to something along the lines of:
“So what did you get up to at the weekend/yesterday/last night?” Shit. On the spot recall. It was all going so well…
Very often I leave a playgroup or coffee meetups mentally exhausted as I’ve tried to cling on to simple facts from the last couple of weeks. I might even have made notes prior to the event on what interesting things I have done recently (not much) to aid this recall.
Since when did motherhood mean revising life facts in order to socialise? Who am I if I can’t even express myself anymore? And the biggy – do those words ever come back?
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