"Uhhhhh. Uhrrhhhhhuhhhh." That was me, this morning, mouth agape, trying to find my wits. I'd stayed up late last night--okay, not overly late, just until 11:30,in a rebellious sort of frame of mind. Sure, I should've gone to bed at a reasonable hour, but after a day of tending to Kiddo's Every Need, I was greedy for some time alone. So, up too late, doing crossword puzzles and nothing else of significance.

So this morning I sounded like ZombieMama, complete with all the achy groans. I did contemplate the idea of brains. Brains...drool. I wish I had one. Having a child has made me stupid, what with half of NPR having to be silenced because of words like "killing" and "car bomb" and "suicide bomber" and "BP oil spill"...all those words I'd rather not have Kiddo exposed to on a regular basis. So I usually get half the story. I'd feel outright ignorant if it weren't for those late-night opportunities to read the papers. Like last Friday night, when my neighbor and I went out for beers--I came home at 12:30 and then spent another hour reading the paper, happy for the silence.

I used to love zombies. Years ago, say 3 B.C. (that's "Before Child"), Joe and I had a birthday party featuring both "Shawn of the Dead" and "Kung Fu Hustle". Because we're crazy like that. One of our friends gave us "The Zombie Survival Guide" book as a gift. But the book could never have prepared me for this...

What if you become one of the Zombies? I'm not talking about eating brains (although I have to admit, if you wrap it in nori and rice and call it Brain Sushi, I'd probably eat it), I'm referring to the ultimate zombie lack of brain access. Somewhere this summer, I've lost access to my brain. Maybe it's the intense days of parenting Kiddo alone, especially now that Joe's back at work. Maybe it's all the other things going round my head, busy like the track at the Indy 500. All those things feel really, really inconsequential. I can't get a chick-flick I saw last weekend out of my head, I don't understand why my young friends don't know who Colin Firth is (how can you not know!!!), and I think a little, ahem, older age might be creeping in. My head is stuffed, not with brains, but insignificant trivia including items like "When is the last time he used the potty?" and "Damn, what am I fixing for dinner?" Totally useless Zombie garbage.

My friend K, who has her PhD, once told me very simply that children make you brain damaged. She's pretty smart, and as she finished her dissertation when her youngest was 6 months old, I think she's qualified to have an opinion. I sit here feeling like ZombieMama with no brain at all, waiting for the end of the day, hoping the to be a bit smarter tomorrow.

Unless, of course, I stay up late...


Amanda said…
my coffee is warding away the zombie-life I'm leading just now. I'm grateful for your blog because I know when I finally pick up the phone we'll not be talking about "normal (zombie)" things but catching up. xoxo

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