I wanted to write a new blog post last night, except my brain quit. (You should know that I would’ve been charming, eloquent and funny. I’m just sure of it.)
I wanted to do some laundry last night, except my brain quit. (Psst… I’m using wanted rather loosely.)
I wanted to finish my kids’ enrollment forms for school next year, except my brain quit.
I wanted to feed myself, except my brain quit.
Do you know what you can do while your brain is stuck in a never-ending loading loop?
A loop that looks like this?
Apparently, you can make a piece of toast.
Of course, you’ll find it 3 hours later in the toaster, popped up, cold and stale.
So you’ll plunge it down again. Just to reheat it to the point that butter will melt into the potholes and drip out the bottom and tarnish your pajama pants with translucent butter stains so you can feel good about yourself both now and forever.
But you’ll forget about the toast the second time until you hear the POP! from the other room and RUN back to the toaster as though the speed with which you hurry will magically prevent it from being a blackened ruin.
My toast was a blackened ruin.
Apparently, when your brain quits, you can make a piece of toast. You just can’t manage to eat a piece of toast.
If I had a perfectly buttered piece of toast for every time my mama brain went into overload lockdown, I would have a LOT more pajama stains, you guys. This is my silver lining.
In other news, I powered down my brain, and I’m attempting to restart it. I thought sleep might help, but in my brain-dead state I forgot I don’t get enough sleep to use it as an actual power source. My slack-jawed, vacant stare says caffeine’s not working, either. And the “Mom? Mom? Mom? MOM? MOM?” attempts of my children aren’t having the desired effect. For them or for me.
Not to be extreme or anything, but I’m afraid if this continues I might have to get some fresh air and exercise. Or buy a new brain.
Maybe tomorrow, I’ll write a real post.
Until then, I’m just going to hang out.