Do you suffer from mom fog?
It’s similar to mom brain, but worse. Mom brain happens on occasion, like an “oops.” Mom fog is more of a never-ending haze. It’s mom brain that settles in for the long haul.
Having four kids in seven years has given me quite the case of mom fog. In the depths of perpetual forgetfulness is basically where I live these days.
So, here are my confessions while feeling my way through the mom fog. Feel free to laugh and nod your head. Toss a prayer my way too, because, girl, I could use a personal assistant to help keep me straight!
Just yesterday, after loading my kids in the car, I ran back into the house to grab drinks and snacks for the road. Anyone else all about breakfast in the car so you’re only five minutes late instead of 30? Key fob in hand, I opened the fridge to fill my son’s sippy cup, gathered everything else and went back to the car. The car wouldn’t start. I retraced my steps all over the house for a good five minutes only to find my keys in the fridge. In. The Fridge. Just chillin’.
On a similar vein, I recently left the neighborhood only to return home, thinking I forgot my phone. Nope. It was safely tucked in my pocket. When I ask my kids, “Where did I put my phone?” now, they chuckle and tell me to check my pants.
Here’s a good one. Last week, I called to schedule my son’s 18-month wellness appointment. The receptionist couldn’t find a record of him needing said appointment. We finally deduced that it was because he is 2 1/2 years old—30 months, not 18, and not in need of a wellness appointment on his half birthday. You guys, I miscalculated how old my kid is.
Then there is my grocery list. I jot it down old-school style with pen and paper on a notepad that I have on the fridge. It’s the perfect setup for my mom brain. Except for the fact that I’m usually so distracted while I write that my handwriting isn’t legible. So, when I rolled into the grocery store with my list, I couldn’t read some of it. I eventually took a photo of the final mystery item on my list and posted it to social media—not a single soul could decipher my chicken scratch. I’m sure when I’m prepping dinner and missing an ingredient, I’ll uncover what that mystery item is. Haven’t solved this mom fog faux pas yet, though!
Feel free to laugh and nod your head. Toss a prayer my way too, because, girl, I could use a personal assistant to help keep me straight!
And then there’s the stuff that infiltrates my weeks far too often:
I’ve forgotten clothes in the washing machine for so long, they’ve required another wash.
I’ve called my husband about to burst more than once because he wasn’t home from work at his normal time only to realize that, yes, I didn't remember his monthly work dinner.
I’ve misplaced all my glasses. And I have three pairs!
I’ve put things away in the wrong drawers.
I’ve completely lost my vocabulary and stutter over basic sentences.
Let me tell you, mothering little ones is a precarious season. For so many reasons. But this mom fog component? It’s killer. Nothing anyone really preps you for. So, take it from me: It’s coming and it’s staying. Take it on with a side of laughter because that’s really the only way to survive the perpetual fog—the deep, dark depths of the mom fog.
I know I’m not the only one living in this hazy, forgetful land where emotions run high and sleep runs low. But, rather than resent this side effect of mom life, I’m choosing to accept my less-than-pulled-together self. I’m a good mama, even if I'm about as sharp as a marble these days.
