Mommy Brain

By: Claire Clark

At 4 months of age, my youngest started wheezing. His three big brothers have varying degrees of asthma, so I wasn’t too alarmed. Our pediatrician prescribed nebulizer treatments and sent us home with a script for nebulizer tubing. I packed the four boys in the car and headed to the medical supply store to pick up the tubing. Once inside, it was a mini Disney world–walkers, toilet risers, and wheelchairs. Three little boys trying hard to restrain themselves (ok, not really) and a stressed out mommy trying to give insurance information while ensuring the little monkeys did no wrong.  It was going so well until…

“Does he have a middle name?”
“Um, yes.”
“What is it?”

Silence.

One set of bifocaled eyes staring at me while I desperately tried to remember my fourth son’s middle name. The inner dialogue went something like this:  Thomas? No. Matthew? No. WHAT is it? This is taking too long, I should know this. John? Paul? George? Ringo? No, no, no and no. Oh, goodness…I have failed as a mother. Stop staring, you’re making me nervous.

“ANDREW! It’s Andrew.”

Okay, breathe. You got it.

I’m pretty sure I then muttered something about sleep deprivation, grabbed the tubing and told the boys to follow me or they would have to spend the night there (which probably wasn’t the threat I had intended.)

Clearly, not one of my best moments. But I lived to tell about it, and really, isn’t that what matters? We can’t always escape mommy brain, but we can feel pride that we survived, plain and simple.

Claire is a 2000 graduate of Vanderbilt University, where she studied art history and psychology. Now a stay at home mom of four boys, she enjoys thrift shopping, girls night, Mexican takeout, reading, and home décor blogs.