Friday, April 4, 2014

Week 35 or “Zombieland"

Do you remember that game “The Sims”?

Let me tell you, back in the day, I played a lot of Sims. Mostly I was in it to do 2 things: build their little houses and kill them in funny ways. You know, the norm. And here's the thing about Sims: they don't really have free will, so if you just ignore your Sim, they will kinda take care of themselves, but they'll spend a whole lot of time walking from room to room, staring blankly at the wall.

"Why am I in the dining room? Better question: why do I own a sheep nightgown?"
Well, lately, I've been feeling very “Sim”-like, as I spend a lot of my day playing a game I like to call “Why am I here?”   Sounds deep and insightful, right? You're overthinking it. It's more like this: I walk into a room, and then spend a good 3 minutes trying to remember what I was going to do there. It's super fun, guys! Sigh...

Here's something I've learned these last 35 weeks: BABY BRAIN IS FOR REAL.


Looking back, I think my first encouter with baby brain was in week 10 with the, now dead to me, Easy Mac. In hindsight, I'm usually a little more competent at reading instructions that are written on the side of what is essentially an 8 year olds after school snack.

The next incident involved trying to open my car door with a fork. When I realized what I was doing, it genuinely confused me.

Here is some photographic evidence of the baby brain – 


I could not, for the life of me, figure out why the chicken in the pan wasn't getting warm. Turns out, you have to put the pan ON a lit burner, not just "lit burner adjacent". It took me, literally, 20 minutes to realize the problem.

And the other day, I actually stopped my students from taking a standardized survey on my teaching so I could call the office and tell them I didn't have any surveys in my room. Turns out, they were on my desk. Right next to the intercom. Didn't realize that until the poor assistant principal had run to my room to help me.

I hear it doesn't get better after the baby is born.

This will be me a few months. Except fatter. And with fewer adorable brown babies. And fewer babies, period.


Me, wearing my mermaid costume, teaching the baby about drug interactions.

Welcome to Terminus. (Too soon, Walking Dead friends?)
This is how Sims give birth - they stand in front of the toilet, thinking about pacifiers. Then, they wet themselves, groan a bit, spin around, and POOF! Baby time!   Sidenote: these sentences also sum up my birth plan.



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