When I had a kid, I expected the hormonal fluctuations. The exhaustion. The emotions.
What I did not expect was my brain to turn into a robot.
...Especially not, um, a really shitty robot.
Turns out when your brain's under stress, it falls back to its most familiar and comfortable way of coping with the world. For some people, coping comes in the form of long phone calls with friends. For others, it's lighting a cigarette or downing Hot Cheetos by the bag.
Apparently for me, it's trying to logic my way through every single, tiny decision in a desperate attempt to bring order to the world. (Emphasis on "trying.")
It's like there's a problem-solving program constantly running in the background of my brain, except this program has no idea how to prioritize the problems. And it's running on a crappy old school computer that can barely handle The Oregon Trail.
(Millennials understand.)
An example of this new glitchy robot reality:
This week, I realized it's time to buy a set of water cups for my kid. I began mentally listing the requirements as I scrolled through Amazon.
Must have a straw, not a sippy lid.
BPA free.
Easy to wash.
Should it have handles?
I think I remember that pediatric dietician saying no handles.
But handles are helpful, right?
But then it won’t fit in the car seat cup holder.
Wait, is a cup a projectile risk in an accident?
Researching soft silicone straw cups.
Shoot, the reviews say that silicone lids come off too easily.
I should start a comparison table.
Also: Did you know I've recorded every breastfeeding session since my baby's first breath? I know every minute he’s ever latched, and for how long—I even track which boob he used, because heaven help me I am NOT about to deal with uneven boobs. There’s a note in my phone for every week. Every nap is in there, too.
I am genuinely not sure if this is something I should be proud of or really, really embarrassed about.
Anyway, while it's been fascinating to watch myself become the most neurotic informed mom on the planet as I research and track myself into a hole, I'm truly a little scared of this new brain. It's like this one aspect of my personality—which arguably is the same aspect that has made me great at my work (researching, organizing information, etc.)—is becoming my entire personality.
And I'm afraid I'll be stuck in robot mode unless I change something.
(Or try mushrooms.)
(But I'm a rule-follower, so change it is.)
Wanted: A new hobby that lets my brain rest
I need something that forces my mind to stop whirring in the background. So I have started a list of potential brainless hobbies to try.
The irony of a list for anti-list-making is not lost on me. Baby steps, baby steps.
Option 1: Making collages
Think: ordering a bunch of old magazines off of eBay, cutting them up, and getting crazy with the glue sticks. I remember having so much fun doing this at camp. I decoupaged a shoe box with ~cool phrases~ and ~inspirational photos~ that I kept for years until the Mod Podge got too gummy.
Normally I'd recommend avoiding anything that puts you in the same frame of mind as a teenager. But at least teenage Jessie didn’t spend literal hours researching the best kind of pajamas to buy?
Option 2: Adult coloring books
I have hated adult coloring books since I first heard of them because I believe I'm too good for them. One glance at those blank mandalas and I'm mentally patting myself on the back. Oh ho ho! These poor people who still need coloring books. I mastered those when I was, like, FIVE.
…Now I'm realizing that I may have missed the point entirely.
Option 3: Playing with my kid
My toddler is in a phase I call "the ten-foot leash." If I am within ten feet of him, he is, generally, content.
But the moment I step beyond that invisible line, doomsday is upon us.
And since he has also decided that my phone belongs in his mouth, I am forced to put it away and have this experience called "quality time with my kid." Or "being present," or something.
Of course, right now that looks like a lot of “The towel is on baby’s head! Oh! Now the towel is on mama’s head!”
It is not a hobby. But it is fairly brainless. Probably in a good way.
» Anyway, I am now accepting ideas for appropriately brainless hobbies. People with quiet brains (or those fighting to regain them), please share your secrets??
-Jessie
Oooh, I hear you Mama! When A was around this age, I took her stroller up and down the hills of the neighborhood. Being in nature and socializing with neighbors helped me see the bigger picture instead of getting caught up in the things that didn't matter (Like cloth diapering! Didn't work for us 🤷🏻♀️)
(This is probably unhelpful considering it's nearing summer and you live in the desert, so take this with a grain of salt.)
But hobbies! Creativity! It probably feels terrible and you're in desperate need of a nap but you've kept a human alive for nearly a year and that is an accomplishment you should be proud of 👏
After I had my first kiddo I remember all the researching and record keeping. As more kids came along (I now have 4) I eased my grip on trying to be perfect. My mantra became “keep the baby alive”. Setting the bar low ensures success and gives you momentum to keep going. For hobbies, I joined a competitive trivia team. Put that encyclopedic mom brain to good use!