Mush, It's Just Mush

When you walk out your front door to check the mail and realize that instead of grabbing a set of keys off of the counter, you grabbed a set of measuring spoons, it becomes quite obvious that your brain has become nothing but mush.

And I blame it all on my three young children.

And I think it's been getting worse lately.

The other night while holding the baby boy, I placed the edge of his pacifier in between my teeth. It was the best way I could think of to assure myself that I would know where it was once he needed it.

Thirty minutes later he began to cry and the cries became louder. He was so very tired and needed to soothe himself with his pacifier. And as the cries swelled, I frantically began searching for the pacifier that I knew had to be pretty close by.

I stood up to check where I had been sitting. I started reaching in between the seat cushions. I checked the floor all around us. And my poor little guy was getting so angry with me.

As soon as I opened my mouth to ask the hubby if he had any idea where the baby's pacifier was, I realized what that piece of plastic was that I had had clenched between my teeth.

See, Mush!!! My brain is mush!!!

And don't get me started on how I told the hubby all about the new Blockbuster Online movie we recently got in the mail which centers around an assasinator. Boy did he chuckle for quite awhile, before gently reminding me that the correct word is assassin. I happen to like my word better, thank you very much.

And the thing is, I don't remember having this many Jessica Simpson moments before I had children. So, yes, I blame it on them.