From the Blog

Clumsy and Dumb. No Really, I Am.

I’m pretty good at embarrassing myself. I don’t mind being goofy, or I don’t mind being self deprecating. Because I certainly want to be the first person to make fun of me. I like to think that I hone conspicuous personal embarrassment as a fine artisan would whittle a duck from a bar of soap.

However, I don’t like making a fool of myself if I’m not the first to know. If I can help it at all, I’d rather not say something unintentionally dumb, or insensitive or uninformed.┬áIt screws up my image management.

I can’t say if it’s hormones, or the long winter nights, or just a bout of oversensitivity. But I feel clumsy. Not just physical, slapstick clumsy. But dim-witted, over-my-head, does-not-compute clumsy. It’s like, I just got a little bit more stupid. I don’t know if I’m actually more dumb right now, or if I just feeeeeeel more dumb. I might have to poll my husband and friends and see if they’d give me honest answers. “Am I dumber than I used to be?”

As I think about it though, I’ve definitely had some full-on scatterbrain moments, like, holy crap, I better start wearing a helmet. When the light turns green, you’re supposed to go, right? I might have forgotten that. Once. Or going to the store to buy some stuff, but forgetting to get the one item I went to the store for. I can’t say that’s extra dumb. That’s just run-of-the-mill dumb.

But I could seriously start a whole new blog with at least one really dumb thing I do every single day. Like when I put frozen strawberries in a blender to make a puree, and I plugged it in before putting the lid on. And the button was switched to “on.” And the frozen strawberries exploded into the air then pelted me in the head. For the record though, the blender has always been my least favorite kitchen appliance.

Or making myself some pasta, and wanting to add frozen spinach to the sauce. And I get the bag of frozen spinach, whack it on the counter to break it up. And I pour the spinach into the sauce. Except it’s not spinach, it’s peas! I hate fucking peas! I mean, I don’t hate peas in general, but I hate them in inappropriate places, like in my pasta sauce. And you bet your butt I spent five minutes plucking out every last errant pea from that pasta sauce.

This isn’t permanent, right? I’m not going to be dumb like this forever? Or do I just need to go get a helmet and full body armor?

 

Comments

  1. I’d tell you it gets better, but it doesn’t…just wait ’til you’re breastfeeding!

  2. And not sleeping for more than two hours at a time!

  3. Ah yes! I’ve been told the technical term is “mommy brain.”
    When I was pregnant, this ailment/condition/whatever caused me to forget my pin number in the checkout line at the grocery store. Cart brimming with groceries, no cash, and 84 people in line watching me punch in one wrong set of numbers after another. So embarrasing! As I was about to break down and offer to put everything back, the cashier reminded me he could run the card as “credit.” Bloody brilliant!
    So you’re not alone. And I’m afraid it gets worse. But that means more writing fodder, right?
    Congratulations on your expanding family!

  4. Drawings!! more drawings, this one is so perfect, snarky little Heather mad at her peas.. I have missed these.

  5. PS: you could do very well making a calendar, so you have it in you to do one a day?

  6. Aunty Laurie says

    AHHH Poor Heather… It’s ok , your more than a little, Justifiably preoccupied! You certainly have more than your share of things to think about right now. A couple of strawberries sent into orbit via the blendah does not warrant a helmet!! And you have forgotten what the hell you went to the store for years so don’t start blaming the children quite yet! Simply put, Relax, enjoy the experience, it’s easy now, wait til Fric and Frac are Tap Dancing on your bladder, thats when the Real fun begins!!! p.s. I love the calender idea also!!!

  7. ah yes, ER waiting rooms. the 8th level of hell. one of the reasons i like reading your stuff is that you so succinctly put into words, feelings i have had. sitting in a crammed waiting room, with my mom in horrible pain (she would have been that slumped over woman), not just one, but two tv blaring mindless garbage out into the room. why are there tvs int he waiting room? why??!!
    glad you are doing well. the ultrasound tech was a little bit of a jerk!

  8. Yes, this is because you’re preggers. Sorry.

    When I was knocked, I forgot how to turn on the shower; rather, I couldn’t remember which way to turn the knobs. No kidding. Draw that one!

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