The Tao of Poop: brain

Sunday, February 2, 2014

Mommy Brain: Real or Myth?

“WHAT DAY IS IT?” I blurt out, like a Rain Man non-sequitor.

Generally, it doesn’t matter what day it is. My days tend to flow into one another. The saying “Same shit, different day” takes on a literal meaning with a toddler.

“It’s Friday?” my husband mumbles, clearly mirroring my own confusion.

“Crap, I was supposed to meet Reid 10 minutes ago! I’m late!” I say.

In vain, I try to gather a presentable-to-society outfit. I try to text my friend, as I race out the door. His number isn’t in my cellphone! How is that possible?! I rush to the restaurant. What? He’s not here. I check his emails on my phone…

Our plans are for NEXT Friday! Oh! Duh...and crap!

(Later, I notice that his number was actually on our email correspondence.)

I am out of practice about having a “real” life. You know, meeting friends and such. Does my scatterbrained state of confusion suggest I'm suffering from the proverbial “Mommy Brain”?

It’s true. I exist in some sort of vague reality that's off the

time/space continuum. I have morphed into a toddler state of mind, complete with fairies and unicorns.

Yet, I struggle against the “Mommy Brain” cliché. I want to believe it’s an old wives’ tale. “Mommy Brain” seems to add to the stereotype that moms (particularly of the Stay-at-home variety) aren’t current -- that we have lost our edge and are no longer “productive” members of society.

It’s why I put “real” in quotes above. I mean I have a real life! It’s just not my former life.

Is my child literally making me lose my mind?

I do see evidence of “Mommy Brain” all around me. I am more likely to know the words to a song from the movie, Frozen, than the hot topic of The State of the Union address. I’m more apt to read Dr. Seuss than Dr. Anyone Else Adult.

The other day, our family went out to brunch. The waiter asked me if I wanted more coffee. I looked at the table and said, “Uh, I can’t find my cup.” The waiter responded generously, “Um, ma’am, It’s in your hand.”

I didn’t make this interaction up, folks! Maybe, I should be blaming it on my toddler!

So I googled “Mommy Brain”, and found some interesting stuff. It turns out that our babies aren’t the only ones growing. According to a study, the grey matter in mom’s brain actually grows too! It gets bigger in the areas of the hypothalamus, prefrontal corext and amygdala. These areas control emotional regulation, motivation, planning and foresight! Not bad, mamas!

The authors of the article do suggest that memory lapses, such as forgetting names (or that one’s coffee cup is in one’s hand), may be due to a shifting set of priorities.

I like that one better too. I would rather say that my priorities have changed to caring for my daughter than to say I have “Mommy Brain”.

Yeah, I’m going with that one, and with the fact that I have a bigger brain since having Claire!

What do you think? Have you had "Mommy Brain" moments? Do you think "Mommy Brain" is real or an old wives' tale?

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This photo is public domain, but it's use does not suggest that the licenser endorses me, it's use or this blog.

Welcome to The Sunday Parenting Party, hosted by Dirt and Boogers, Play Activities, Crayon Freckles, Taming the Goblin, The Golden Gleam, Prickly Mom, and The Tao of Poop. The SPP is place for readers to find ideas on nurturing, educating, and caring for children, as well as honest posts about the stresses of being a parent or caregiver. Links to reviews and giveaways are welcome as long as they are relevant to the topic. All parenting philosophies are welcome with one exception: please do not link to posts promoting physical discipline, as this is something we would feel uncomfortable having on our blogs. (P.S. By linking up you agree that your post and photos are Pinterest, Sulia, G+ and FB friendly. We will be showcasing ideas on The Sunday Parenting Party Pinterest board.)

Check out this week's fab features:

Sadder but Wiser Girl, Fly on the Wall
Left Brain Buddha, Mindful Parenting
Finding Ninee, Autism, Sometimes I'm not ready

Sunday, January 26, 2014

Exercise, Motherhood and Depression

I just came back from the gym. I feel good.

There are the obvious reasons for feeling good. I've crossed something off my to-do list. I have an overall sense of accomplishment. I've worked off the chocolates that my lovely husband got for me the other day.

But when I say, "I feel good", I mean so much more. My head feels good. I feel lighter, more optimistic and relaxed. Love abounds in my heart for family, neighbors and mankind. Picture me with a skip in my step, humming the song, I Can See Clearly Now, as the serotonin balances in my brain.

I need to workout. When I don't exercise, the stress in my life turns into dark thoughts, irritability, and a struggle to accomplish daily tasks.

It's workout, go on Prozac or be depressed. I've done all three. I prefer the first option, and have

chosen exercise for many years. I haven't always wanted to get to the gym. There have been times that it was hard to fit it into my schedule.

But working out is a commitment that I have made to myself and my mental health. I'm grateful that exercise has worked for me as well as any pill.

Now, I have Claire. I'm finding it harder to honor that commitment. Frankly, it's easier to find time to blog. I can sit at home while she's sleeping and write. I've never been an exercise tape kind of girl. I'm tired. I don't have a ton of free time. The list goes on.

I don't easily recognize the slow slide into depression either. Remember the frog sitting in a pot of water on the stove? She's slowly boiled, because she doesn't feel the rising temperature. I'm like her. I notice the dark side of myself only in contrast, when I feel differently than dark.

In general, we moms have a hard time taking care of ourselves. It's ironic, though, that at a time when we need to be our best selves for our children, we find it challenging to attend to our needs. So many other priorities seem to trump us and our pesky needs.

I do notice I'm not taking care of myself, though. I notice when I return from a workout and feel differently than dark.

Like today. That's when I remember that my daughter deserves a mom who feels this good. I am a better mom when I feel this good. I deserve to say, "I feel good" and really mean it.

We all do.

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Photo Source: Mike Baird, Flickr, this photo has been altered and does not suggest that the licensor endorses me or its use
License

Welcome to The Sunday Parenting Party, hosted by Dirt and Boogers, Play Activities, Crayon Freckles, Taming the Goblin, The Golden Gleam, Prickly Mom, and The Tao of Poop. The SPP is place for readers to find ideas on nurturing, educating, and caring for children, as well as honest posts about the stresses of being a parent or caregiver. Links to reviews and giveaways are welcome as long as they are relevant to the topic. All parenting philosophies are welcome with one exception: please do not link to posts promoting physical discipline, as this is something we would feel uncomfortable having on our blogs. (P.S. By linking up you agree that your post and photos are Pinterest, Sulia, G+ and FB friendly. We will be showcasing ideas on The Sunday Parenting Party Pinterest board.)

Check out this week's fab features:

Finding Ninee, Dear Special Needs Mama
MamaSchmama, Theater of the Absurd