Monday, November 15, 2010

Attack Of The Baby Brain

My wife and I are expecting our first child in June.  We're very excited, as we've been trying for two years.  I was told of this phenomenon known as "Baby Brain" by friends, who are also expecting, but they are further along.  As it was explained, by the mother to be, "Baby Brain" takes an otherwise intelligent woman and turns her into someone completely forgetful and confused, most of the time.  Basically, a babbling idiot.  I did witness this a couple of weeks ago, while at a game night with these friends.  The mom to be was trying to tell or explain a story, but no one knows exactly, because she never finished.  We all just kind of looked at one another, wondering if we were the only ones not understanding what was going on.  So it does exist.

Fast forward a couple of weeks to this past Friday night.  My wife and I had gone food shopping.  The receipt was printing at the register, but then ran out of paper.  We had just gotten a coupon for a free gallon of milk.  My wife took this time to run and get said milk.  Free milk is free milk.  So there was a little confusion going on, but nothing major.  We get home, but my wife pulls into the parking spot a little crooked.  Bad enough that if I open the backseat door, where the food is...I'll hit the car next to us.  I tell her to straighten out.  She puts the car into reverse, but she's actually in neutral.  I tell her that she's in neutral, but she doesn't believe me.  It gets worked out and we get the food into the house.

We still haven't gotten to the "Baby Brain" incident yet.  We put all of the food away and then it happens.  "Where's my wallet?  You never gave me back my wallet!"  I scan and pay for all of the groceries and my wife bags them.  She's in charge of the money, so she give me her wallet and whatever coupons we have for that week.  During the confusion at the register, I very likely, could have forgotten to give it back to her.  Here's the problem, there is no wallet in my jacket or pockets.  Did I forget it at the register?  I might have...I don't know.  She's in full panic mode at this point.  She tells me to call the supermarket, while she jumps in the car to head back.  The supermarket is literally 5 minutes away.

I call over and ask if anything was found at register 4.  We always use the self-checkout, because we try to avoid lines like the plague.  Even if we did go through a checkout line where there was a person ringing us up, my wife would tell the bagger to take a hike.  My wife doesn't trust baggers, she wants to do it herself.  The customer service person gets back on the phone with me.  She checked the area and spoke with the workers around there to see if anyone turned it in.  Nothing.  My wife showed up at the supermarket and wanted to look at the surveillance tapes.  No, I'm not kidding.  She was told that person wasn't in until tomorrow.  My wife appears back at home, even more frantic.  I feel horrible, because I'm totally convinced I've lost it.  We're going to have to cancel credit cards and call the bank...etc.  Just a lot of not fun stuff to do.  Did I mention yet that it's her birthday?  By the way, surprise, it's her birthday!

She runs over to get her phone, which is front of the microwave...on top of her... WALLET.  Yes, her phone which she had in her pocket when we got home, is on TOP of her wallet.  Which she also had when we got home.  So, the aftermath of this true story is, a normally, very intelligent woman.  College graduate, for that matter...totally confused and talking to herself.  Trying to figure out how in the world she missed me giving her wallet back to her.  She was completely beside herself, speaking in tongues.  Not a pretty sight. 

Editor's Note: The blog isn't going to become a Daddy Blog, but there will be entries as the pregnancy gets further along.  Plus, when the baby does get born, of course, I'm going to gush all about it.  This blog is about my life.  Up until now, my life was music, movies and sports.  Now we have added a very important new topic.

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