, , , , , ,

I’ve heard a lot about it, but I haven’t really been a believer in “pregnancy brain” until now. Unfortunately, the signs are too hard to ignore any longer. There have been a few too many occurrences lately, and I must admit…I have the dreaded pregnancy brain. It began early last week when I wrote, “Please take Truman to breakfast as often as possible.” on his sign in sheet at daycare. It should have said, “Please take Truman to the potty as often as possible.” but I was talking to his teacher about his yogurt and banana breakfast while writing and it just slipped in there. I chalked that one up to an honest mistake, that kind of thing happens to everybody right? Well, a few days later I wrote the wrong child’s name down on his sheet. This may be acceptable of I HAD more than one child, but I don’t! I wrote down the name of another child in Truman’s class. It was then that I began to realize I was in trouble.
But the real kicker, the incident that has made me succumb to the diagnosis, happened this Sunday morning at our breakfast restaurant. We finished eating and I needed to pee. As I walked down the little hallway toward the restrooms, I automatically knew that the ladies’ room was the second door on the right, since I had been in this room a billion times before. I pushed open the door and entered the stall, taking a brief moment to wonder about the restaurant only having one stall in a women’s bathroom. I thought, That is unusual, I never paid attention to that before. I figured I must have been the first person in there that morning because the seat was up, probably left that way after cleaning the night before. I put the seat down and proceeded to relieve my bladder. As I was finishing I heard the door open and someone walked in. I saw tennis shoes under the wall next to me and was instantly confused. Was there another stall after all? How did I miss that? Wait, why do I hear pee-pee noises but this lady is still facing the wall…Oh. My. God. I am in the men’s room. How did I not see the urinal when I came in? What do I do now? Walk out while this man is peeing? I can’t! We may both die of embarrassment! Ok, I’ll wait it out. He’ll finish and leave, I’ll slip out and no one will ever know. I patiently sat on the toilet waiting. Mr. Urinal finishes peeing but is still standing in the middle of the bathroom! I just knew he was playing with his phone. It is deathly quiet in the bathroom and I’m praying that he just walks out so I can sneak away, but the minutes tick by and I can feel my face getting hotter. What if he’s waiting for the stall? Just as I am about to burst through the door and run away, the door opens and another man comes in! Great! Now there are two men in here and I’m trapped in the stall dying a slow death of humiliation. I decide to just go for it, fairly confident that both men have their private areas covered at that moment. I open the stall door to see the first guy walking out and a very old, hunched over little man standing at the urinal. Thankfully his penis was still in his pants, and I immediately started apologizing. “Oh, I got the wrong bathroom! I’m so sorry!” He looked surprised and then giggled as I darted through the door. My face burning, I made it back to our booth and told Mike, “We have to go right now. I went into the men’s room by mistake!” He of course thought that was the funniest thing ever and I swear he took his sweet time getting out of there. I don’t know how I did it, and the only conclusion I can come to is pregnancy brain. It is real. I have it, and I hope it goes away. I don’t know how many more embarrassing situations I can live through.