The Baby Ate My Brain

I read that during pregnancy, your brain cells actually shrink. They're reportedly supposed to plump back up a few months after delivery. Mine apparently are taking their time with the plumping. So while my pregnancy-induced clumsiness has improved immensely, I'm sometimes a raging moron. Add the non-plumped-back-up brain cells to a lack of sleep and I am what you get. A few highlights.

Example 1. I mailed a check with one amount in numerals and another amount written out. The written part of the check is the legal part (who knew?), so I had to write a separate check to finish the transaction.

Example 2. I mailed our trash bill without a check at all. They returned it and kindly asked for their money.

Example 3. Jenn and I were going back and forth via email. We're always making acronyms and explaining them, thus not actually saving any time at all until they catch on. One of our favorites is SLAP for "Sounds like a plan!" The other day I created a clever new one, EARTO, which was supposed to mean "Edited and ready to go!" Except for the whole part where I substituted an O for what should have been a G.

So these are the minor goofs I've been doing on a daily basis. But this one takes the cake:

Alan came down to the living room after changing out of a sour-milky spit-up shirt to join me on the couch.

"Where's the baby?" I asked.

Cue Alan's blank stare. "The baby?" he said.

"WHERE IS AVERY?"

Alan looks at me like the moron that I am. I look down. Oh yeah. She's on my lap. Eating. From my breast.

Seriously. The baby ate my brain.

But isn't she cute as the freaking dickens?