"Baby Brain"

Auntie giving a cuddle (while Mama wanders vacantly through rooms  with no sense or purpose)

Baby brain.

That dreaded state of mind wherein you are forced to operate with the mental acuity of a baby chimp...with learning difficulties.

I found myself giving myself a severe talking to the other day whilst calmly observing my right hand pouring water from an ice cold jug into my newly made mug of tea.  Given that I was juggling a sleeping newborn in one arm at the time (you try it and see how painstakingly slow the process becomes) I don't know which bothered me more:  the fact that my brain thought it was milk OR the fact that I'd have to dump it and begin the whole process again.

That's not all though.  I find myself throwing dirty laundry in with freshly laundered clothes...adding eye make up remover to my bath...and wandering aimlessly around rooms wondering what on earth I've come in for??

Nearly three weeks in and the lack of proper nocturnal slumber is starting to have an effect.  Whereas with our first (and occasionally with our second) child, the husband would jump out of bed to the sound of relentless crying and deposit a weak with hunger infant to my breast - now, he somehow manages to sleep through all the racket (or he's doing a bloody good job of pretending) and it's up to me to answer the call of the never satiated mini-wildebeast.

But what a darling little beastie he is...and so enthralled with the delight of having a newborn around again, I scarcely mind.  But talk to me again in three months and it may be a different story.

Egg and Dumpie are devoted and adoring brothers.  Dumpie religiously gives the 'Nu-Guy' a kiss every morning before he slips off to school, and Egg is always asking to hold him - and even sticks his beloved bear Bacon in his arms for a cuddle now and then.

This morning at breakfast they even beseeched their father for 'one more baby' - a request that was met with a blank and frozen stare from Dada and a chuckle from me.  However, the conversation as an entirety was shortly curtailed forthwith when Egg asked whether, during the process of the sperm shooting seeds into the egg, it 'hurt' a lot.  Gulp.

Anyway, I'd best sign off and go and do something which I know is very important and which desperately needs to be done.  At the time of this writing, it's true, I have no precise idea what it is that I'm meant to be doing, but am confident that a quick spin through the downstairs rooms will clarify my purpose and 'refresh' the page my stuttering brain has frozen on.

I hope.