My “Mom Brain” Is My Superpower

This summer I was talking to my mom about the kids’ busy sports schedules for the coming season. She said, “Whatever it is, you’ll figure it out. You’re so organized.”

I braced myself because I knew it was coming, and I heard it: the snort from my husband.

The fact that I expected the snort and wasn’t even fazed by it is the best indicator that in our marriage, I am not the organized one. He’s the one who has his shirts arranged by color, while I have piles of clean laundry all over the house. His shoes get returned to the closet every night, while mine get kicked off as soon as I enter the house and live in a big pile of soccer cleats and kid crocs by the door. His jacket is hanging up in the coat closet, while mine is added to the coat mountain on the floor of that coat closet, the closet with a door that needs to be shoved closed to hide our shame. And try as I might, I can never keep the kitchen counter clear of the clutter that a household of seven generates every day.

So describing me as “organized” is arguably deserving of a snort. Except that’s not the kind of “organized” my mom was referring to. Sure we like to joke about “Mom Brain” and use it to describe that time you put the milk in the pantry and your phone in the fridge (guilty on both counts), but the organization of a mom’s brain is a wonderful, awesome thing. That’s why I think we should redefine “Mom Brain” to mean something worthy of awe and respect.

Take packing school lunches, for example. Thanks to my Mom Brain, I know that Thing One likes only ham and cheese or turkey and cheese sandwiches, and a peanut butter sandwich will return uneaten. Thing Two used to like peanut butter and jelly but one day her sandwich “tasted weird” so now she won’t touch peanut butter OR jelly, and is completely in the processed meat camp with Thing One. Thing Three will not eat cheese and will only eat peanut butter (no jelly), Nutella, or peanut butter and Nutella sandwiches. And he likes his sandwiches cut into triangles. Thing Two likes her sandwiches cut too but is not picky about the shape, and Thing One’s sandwich Must Not Be Cut because in middle school you apparently DO NOT eat cut sandwiches. They are equally split on which fruits and vegetables are acceptable to pack in a school lunch.

And that’s only one meal.

Add in the other meals and Mom Brain starts getting overwhelmed with things like: Did I accidentally buy a cereal with more than 8 grams of sugar per serving? Is this whole grain bread/rice/pasta? Am I doing enough to avoid GMOs? Did we already have pasta for dinner this week? Have we had enough meat? Too much? Enough vegetables? Does this have nitrates? Should I buy hormone-free milk? What’s on sale this week at Aldi? My Mom Brain can read minds and knows that right now most of you are judging me for the Nutella sandwiches.

My Mom Brain also knows each kid’s practice schedule so I manage to get everyone dropped off or picked up at the right place on the right days (on time, even!). I know what weekends there are dance competitions and where. I know each costume change requires a tight change and I know we have those tights and they are in good shape because I personally inspected them for stains and rips and runs last time (but I have back-up tights in every color in the dance bag anyway).

I know what side of her head the flowers go on for her lyrical dance. I know how to do a sock bun and put on the fake eyelashes even tough I’ve never worn fake eyelashes in my life. I also know how to get the soccer socks over the shin guards (harder than tights) and I know where everybody’s shin guards are. And I know to remind my boys to take hats and gloves to practice because even though it’s almost 70 degrees right now, it’s spring in SC and it will be 40 degrees by the time practice is over. I know if they need their red or white uniforms for games this weekend and I know what fields they are playing on but I double-check the fields anyway because of that one time I got it mixed up and got the stink-eye.

I know the proper way to install a car seat. I know about tongue ties and lip ties and the benefits of breastfeeding and extended rear-facing and the safe way to wear a baby. My Mom Brain reminds me to change the baby’s diaper before it soaks through her clothes and to take the toddler to the bathroom before any car ride longer than 4 minutes. I know not to let an underpants-wearing toddler nap on a freshly-washed comforter and not to let her nap at all after 5 p.m. I know when the baby can have egg yolk and when she can have egg white and when she can have peanut butter. I know the difference between a gagging baby and a choking baby and I know what to do in each scenario. I know that the best way to take an iPad from a two-year-old is to let the battery die, so I know never to keep it charged over 8%.

I know that dogs need water to live. I am apparently the only person in this house capable of remembering this. And we will not get a hedgehog or a fish or a guinea pig or a second dog or any other “friend for Happy” until at least one other person in this house can remember to fill the dog’s water bowl when it is empty, for goodness sake. My Mom Brain also registers when the bag of bread is too close to the end of the counter, which would allow Happy-the-Dehydrated-Dog to have a party with it as soon we leave.

My Mom Brain lets me work from home with a baby and a toddler around. It registers that while I wrote those math test questions, or interviewed that teacher, or worked on this post, the toddler watched two episodes of Daniel Tiger so now it’s time to turn off the television and go for a walk or to the park or do a puzzle. I know story time registration started yesterday and I know that granola bar does not count as lunch even if it has quinoa in it.

I know when the mortgage payment and the hospital payment and the credit card payments are due. I know how to calculate how much time it will take us to get ready and out the door, and I know to always add an extra 10 minutes to those calculations.

I know how often I need to do laundry. I know the exact routine that works for washing cloth diapers. I know which diapers are good for overnight, and I know that if the wrong one is used, the baby will wake up crying and wet. I have a pretty good idea of how many library books we have checked out at any given time and which rooms to find them in.

I know when my son is upset even though he never tells me when he is upset. I know when my daughter is trying to tell me something and when she is just talking. I know when somebody needs a hug or some one-on-one time or to be left alone.

Given all this, isn’t it understandable that the phone might occasionally end up in the refrigerator? So let’s not worry about that. Instead, come sit with me and celebrate your Mom Brain. I’d offer you a cup of café con leche, but I can’t find the coffee filters under all of this counter clutter, and I think I accidentally put the milk in the pantry.

What’s your mom superpower?