There goes my life

Someone please come a make it so I can't listen to sappy country music! I love the song about how someone should put warning labels on sad country songs. It's not the sad ones that have been getting me lately. No, I am a huge tard and am weppy over anything to do with children.

When I was pregnant with Turner I could not make it throught the Kenny Chesney song "There goes my life". I don't even like Kenny Chesny. I think he a short cocky little S.O.B. But, let me be pregnant and I am defenseless against the sappy songs about your kids leaving home or growing up.

I am not the cry over anything type of chick. Some movies, if viewed in the privacy of my own home, will get me to tear up, but I have to be in the mood. I did not cry at my high school graduation. I did not cry at my wedding. I did not cry when Turner was born. I am not a cryer. But lordy let the new Sara Evans song come on about being understanding when her little boy messes up...

I just have to stick to happy pop, offensive rap, and melancholy alternative listening selections from here on out. I love just about any kind of music, I mean any kind. I even think some commercial jingles merrit being sung while mindlessly be-bopping around.

Hormones have made me a twit. Mommy brain is in full control. I thought I had fianlly recovered from it some what. I was still able to hold conversations while pregnant with Turner, but that changed after he was born. It took all my concentration to keep focused on someone's face while they were talking that I couldn't get what they were saying. Must be what a labrodor feels like. " They are talking to me! Oh I am so happy! Wait, what are they saying? Doesn't matter, Because they are talking to me!"

So now it's back, but the baby isn't even here yet. What will I be like in June if my brain is already starting to melt? I have trouble concentrating, forget what it is I am doing, can not complete a thought while speaking out loud. This is only going to get worse.

I remember the feeling of not having slept for three or four months at a time. I loved when my family would call to check on me. I wanted to talk to them so bad, but I forgot that I could call them too. So they'd call, I'd get all excited to talk to them, say hello, they would start talking at supersonic speeds, I would try to keep up, but my brain was going over the last time Tuner had nursed? How many wet and poop diapers had he had today? Had I eaten yet? Brushed my teeth or hair in a day or two? So I would hang on to the conversation as long as I could and try to respond at the appropriate times. I tried so very hard to talk about things other than my baby. I know to anyone who called that first six months it probably never seemed that way, but I tried. I tried to remember to ask my sister about her new job, her cheerleaders, and LATAP. I tried to remeber what she and my mom and dad taught, ask about the most recent hurricane etc. It's why my sister started calling me Random Man. I have the inhuman ability to change any subject to something not related in the least. Watch out it strikes when least expected, like when you are in the middle of a sentence.

Now I feel myself sliding down that same slippery slope of self absorbstion. Not that "I" am not not always on my mind. But now when I do start thinking of things other than Turner, Brad, or myself there is a little twitch in my stomach to remind me to get back on track.

How do these women with seven and eight kids do it? I have always said that breast milk is made up of braincells. Mine was. My IQ actually dropped from a 143 before pregnancy, to a 138 after. I took the test more than once and I can not muster anything in the 140 neighborhood. After we finshed nursing I started to see the world around me again, if in only a limted context. So here I go again. Please bear with me. When you see me or call make sure to speak in a sing song voice pattern and smile a lot. That way if I can't get what you're saying at least I can wag my tail and smile back.