Mushy Mommy Brain

It seems that in virtually every parenting magazine I pick up these days, there is yet another article on ‘mommy brain’. You know, the general idea that somehow the act of reproducing and then living day in and day out as a mama zaps brain cells, any memory function, and the most basic form of common sense. A book was recently published with the latest studies of hormone levels, brain testing, and other scary thoughts. They all generally conclude that indeed, mommy brain is not a myth, but something no woman can escape.

Now, the first years of motherhood . . . fine. The extreme sleep deprivation, surging hormones, demands of nursing, of pressures to raise your baby a certain way, get your body back, maintain a welcoming home, all while trying to keep another being alive is enough to make any person a tad forgetful. I admit I’ve had my moments. Putting a box of cereal in the fridge and the milk in the pantry. Preparing an elaborate slow cooker dish then neglecting to turn the cooker on. Running my husband’s cell phone through the washer and the dryer. I am in the throes of the dreaded mommy brain syndrome.

Then the adventures in toddlerhood: the potty training, the big move out of the crib, the every day psychological warfare your pudgy, wild-eyed toddler wages against you. I even buy that.

But what about later on, when the kids are mercifully in school? The most recent article I read basically says mommy brain never really is cured. The stress, the extreme multitasking maneuvers, the parade of school lunches, permission slips, and slumber parties. Did the very moment I conceived my son doom me to a lifetime of brain mush with only fleeting moments of sanity and intelligence?

This is where the UC Santa Cruz feminist in me must chime in, if only in my head. Is mommy brain or the myth of it the reason for the dreaded glass ceiling that hangs over all of our ambitions, career goals and dreams? Maybe the glass ceiling isn’t some supreme conspiracy to keep women in the kitchen with the kids instead of as functioning workers in the free world. Or maybe the mommy brain ‘myth’ was created to justify the whole existence of the glass ceiling. Since no company can predict which of their aspiring women will procreate, they hold them all down, and move the men right up the promotional ladder. (I admit I exaggerate a tad.) Is this why we won’t have a woman president any time soon? If she is a mother, she has too much emotional baggage and her mind is dulled by the constant worrying, multitasking, and hormone fluctuations. If she isn’t a mother, well then, she is surely suspect and wouldn’t have a fighting chance anyway in an election.

What about the upside of mommy brain? Not the dying brain cells, lack of memory and good sense, but the incredible amount of patience and love we gain. The amazing talents of being able to break up sibling wrestling matches, while rescheduling a doctor visit, while attacking a mountain of laundry, and watching the morning news.

I really don’t know where I am going with this or what I should conclude. In a lot of ways, the whole concept of mommy brain pisses me off. (Or perhaps I just have a fresh batch of hormones circulating.) On the other hand, mommy brain lends itself well as a nice scapegoat.

"Sorry honey, I simply don’t understand how I managed to wash your cell phone. It must be that darn mommy brain at it again."