34 dumb days to go

I seem to have lost my mind. No, seriously, if you see it anywhere, slap some postage on it (at this point it’ll probably only need one stamp) and send it back to me. Please. I could really use it. I’m sure my son is sick of me staring blankly into the refrigerator, trying to think of what to feed him. (“Fruit? That’s fruit on the shelf. I bought that for him. He likes fruit. Should I give him fruit? Wait, didn’t he just have some fruit a half-hour ago? What time is it? Oh, he just ate! It’s me who’s hungry....”)

I remember getting fuzzy during my last pregnancy, but I attributed it to having my head in the clouds over becoming a mom, not to mention the stress of trying to get all things lined up for my assistant editor to take over the features desk for what I thought was going to be a three-month maternity leave.

But this time, I just can’t concentrate anymore. Focus. Finish a thought. It’s just...I mean...it’s like....but still....and I....so hard. Ya know?

It just took me four days and about 400 tries to write a lede on a story I would have pounded out in no time if I wasn’t pregnant. Only a writer can imagine how absolutely aggravating that was.

And then I went to the grocery store for about 15 items and wandered aimlessly, backtracking aisle after frustrating aisle, for well over an hour, incapable of remembering what I needed...despite the fact that I had a grocery list in my hand.

Honestly, this baby (God bless him...) has robbed me of my figure, sapped my energy, destroyed my natural hormonal balance, and now he’s depleting my brain cells.

I think I had a point here, but for the life of me I can’t remember what it was.