A Story Of Mom Brain

Okay, I tend to do this. I go and read a bunch of your blogs (and comment, cuz it's sooooo very important to comment) and get inspired. And then I come back here and write about something very random. You have no idea where that came from, sort of thing. Don't be alarmed--I do this all the time. This random stuff. I'm good at it. I have an affinity for people giving me that blank stare back (I can imagine your blank stares as you read this right now). Apparently I get a kick out of it. So here's the latest.

So one time (I've only done this once so far--I try to learn from my episodes), when I was fat, happy and pregnant with child, hubby and I went grocery shopping. Nothing new. We happened to do this often, as you do to survive. Food is very important. So we get home, and unload the groceries. We're putting everything away and I realize that we are missing a whole entire bag. The frozen food bag. The bag with the various frozen veggies, Stouffer's lasagna, burritos, couple of frozen pizzas, and the bless-ED Ben & Jerry's Chubby Hubby. Ben & Jerry's--the #1 reason for going to the store in the first place. This explains why I was fat and happy. The glorious Fudge-Covered Peanut Butter-Filled Pretzels in Vanilla Malt Ice Cream Rippled with Fudge & Peanut Butter (Yes, I googled that description). Isn't "rippled" a wonderful word? Anyhoo...I was very upset that Ben & Jerry didn't make it home. Like pregnant woman upset. There were tears and pulling of hair.

We checked the receipt...yep, everything was on the receipt. Good and paid for. So we called the store and explained. Even though they couldn't find the bag either, they surprisingly told us to come back and they would replace everything in the bag. Everything. There had to be at least $40 worth in that frozen food bag. There might have been another Ben & Jerry pint of goodness thrown in there as back up. We try to be prepared. So we go back to the store, receipt in hand, get everything and go home. And all is all good in my small, small world again. My thighs thank me over and over.

So about three days go by. I'm nesting. I'm ginormously preggo and nesting. I've gone baby shopping. I take my newly purchased baby goodies into the baby room, which is all John Lennon-ed out, with the soft, soothing lime green walls, the yellow and pink borders. I loved his stick elephants, giraffes and birds. It was my favorite room in the house. But as soon as I open the baby's room door I am hit with an awful stench. I can't explain what I thought it could be in this sanctuary of mine. I scream for hubby to come help. I'm sure I'm going to need help. Something has died in there. I'm sure of it. He comes in all He-man soon-to-be daddy and all (I'm sure even He-man wretched from time to time) and gets to work immediately. He's looking in the vents, under the crib...finally he opens the closet and there sits, pooled at the bottom of my baby girl's closet, in it's own rotting badness is the lost bag of frozen food. Ben & Jerry...not so good at this point. Not so much. For some unexplained reason, my soon-to-be-mommy brain directed my swollen body to stow this bag in her closet. I will never understand the workings of Mom brain or the loss of perfectly good Ben & Jerry's.