"Of all the things I've lost, I miss my mind the most"

From what I can tell by being "educated" through Google, I think Mark Twain said that quote above and sometimes I wonder when I'll get my old mind back, if ever.

BK (before kids), I would get so immersed in drafting surveys or record plats for hours that I'd realize about 3 o'clock I was close to urinating on myself and hadn't had lunch yet. No interruptions, no phone calls, no emails, no visits, just pure and simple intense focus on my work that lasted for hours. I'm good at that. I was good at that. I don't know if I am any more or not. The only stretch of long periods of time I have is while sleeping, occasionally.

I asked our wise neighbor the other day, "Mrs. P. how old were you when you started to notice your mind changing?"

She looked at me funny and said, "Changing? Are you noticing something that I'm not?"

"No, no. I mean like when your kids were small. Did you notice that you weren't able to concentrate on hardly anything because of their constant attention?"

She was relieved to hear I wasn't insinuating anything else and gave me the advice I've heard before, but find hard to believe because I'm so deep in the world of little people.

This too shall pass. I will get my mind back, maybe not ALL of it compared to when I was 18, but most of it.

The most recent example I have of losing "it" was Thursday on the way to an ear re-check for the 2nd child in a row with small Eustachian tubes. Background info: when we leave our house and get to "the intersection", the fastest way to get to the Dr.'s office is to go straight.

For reasons that would make most people question my abilities to raise two small children (small things like acknowledging a truck drove by before Mr. Small Tubes has a coronary or answering the 16th question in a row by Miss Inquisitive) my mind went blank and instead of going straight, I took a left. As soon as I straightened out the steering wheel I noticed what I had done and was disgusted with myself. As you can imagine Miss Inquisitive was in the back seat asking me why I said, "Oh poo".

In the middle of trying to regain my thoughts, plan out the next fastest route and explain to her what I had done I glanced up in the rear view mirror to watch Daddy drive across the intersection, going straight, the way I should have gone. What I should have seen was his profile, looking straight ahead, driving. What I saw was the outline of his ears and I lost it. "It" being any and all seriousness I might have had about getting to a Dr.'s appointment on time.

In the middle of explaining my "oh poo" comment I busted out in laughter. Laughing so hard, it was hard to see through the tears in my eyes. You see, unbeknownst to my husband, his ears were what made me laugh so hard. Seeing his ears meant he wasn't watching the road ahead. His ears meant that he was watching his wife drive off in our car with our two small children on another path that didn't make sense and would add minutes to our arrival time. His ears meant his mind was reeling over why in the world I turned left instead of going straight.

Well then, of course, more questions started about my laughter, more screeches for truck acknowledgment continued and now I'm looking for tissues, napkins or even old socks to dry my eyes so I can see the road. ( I've said it before, I'll say it again: it's no wonder mothers don't get into more accidents while driving than they already do.)

I finally got it together and we arrived on time, but it was one more reminder that the old mind I had must be on vacation. I'm hoping it is, because I'd like for it to come back refreshed and ready to work it's tail off.

Hopefully soon, concentration will once again be a skill I can perform because of less interruptions and distractions. Projects will be easier to complete in one, maybe two, installments (as opposed to the 5 attempts it took me to wash the windows in the house. No, I'm not kidding). And maybe, just maybe, there will be time for other "stuff" because there won't be the need to change diapers, referee, dress them, put their shoes on, pour every single drink, clean up spills, prepare and clean up all meals, wipe their faces, go get more toilet paper and help with brushing teeth all before 8:15.

I know me, though. I'll miss their constant need for me, but I think I'll also enjoy having some of the little "extras" in life back that I seriously took advantage of.

I've often heard "being a mom is the hardest job in the world" because my kids are little and I also have lots of friends with small kids. I've often thought that many other jobs could be harder. But I know now, when considering all the facets it takes to make up a whole person, I'm now convinced that mothering affects them all: heart, mind, sanity, sleep, intellect, relationships and spiritual growth, to name a few. It is certainly the hardest job I've had so far, but one I would NEVER trade.