Insanity is heredity; you get it from your children.
I’d like to add a corollary to that–Children give you Alzheimer’s.
Now before any of you go cyber stomping on me with cleats, I just want you to think about a few things.
1) Scientists have proven that sleep deprivation causes memory issues. What (good) parent hasn’t gotten up in the middle of the night and lost sleep over their children. For birth moms this starts in the third trimester when baby decides your bladder is a nice trampoline and sleep is timed in minutes, not hours at a time. When you bring home the bundle of joy, there’s feeding, changing and assorted other things involving bodily fluids you don’t want to touch even if they were yours. There’s a period of time when opportunities for sleep happen (napping on the couch) but then the kiddos start driving, dating, drinking etc… The sleep to worry ration is inversely proportional.
2) And let’s not forget the little nugget of wisdom passed down from mothers to their fellow females that they hate about delivery. Oh, sure it hurts a little but the minute you hold him in your arms you forget all about it. I really want to staple shut the lips of the idiot who said it. I didn’t forget; time made those memories fuzzy. I blame the sleep deprivation. Time and sleep loss have a direct correlation. Still, I’ll play the I delivered you without any drugs speech when I demand my retirement mansion and drool cup.
3)After you reach detente with the sleep deprivation stage, a new phase opens up. Some call this the terrible twos, but that would imply the stage only lasts a year. (Liar, liar, pants on fire). It starts when they start talking and ends…. It ends when you die, or you get creative with duct tape and staples. I’m talking about the constant interruption. Mom. Mom. MOM. MOM! Count on one finger the number of times you’ve completed a sentence since the little rugrats started yakking. See if you can beat my record. I heard someone got up to two complete sentences (subject/verb at a normal speed) but this witness also saw unicorns.
4) Say you’ve made it to the teenage phase with only a few ticks. Now, the head games truly start. Biology says this is when the childhood head becomes a remodeled adult brain. The experts don’t say that the nearby adult brains suffer trauma from flying debris. You see, it’s at this point you think you actually can complete a sentence but no one actually hears it even though there are multiple bodies in the room. And while you may rewind your brain tape, yes the words are there. The teenagers will tell you that you didn’t say this, you said that. Reality twists one-eighty—the sky is green, the grass is blue. And when you finally decide that your brain might be a wee bit more reliable than the kid standing in front of you popping gum, and texting (in some alien language with made up words). They tell you that you are wrong. Wrong. Wrong. 1+1 doesn’t equal two. The planet isn’t round. You’re just wrong. And you can’t even debate the point because they’re, um, not listening (four syllables) to what you’re not saying.
And then they move out (another unicorn teller told me) then they come back with grandchildren. Because you’ve been stockpiling sugar and Red Bull since your children told you they were pregnant, you forget all the angst, worry and tribulations they caused during the last several decades, just so you can feed your beautiful new grandchild your stockpile before their parents pick them up:-) So now, you’re deliberately forgetting things and this is when your brain gives up. What’s the point of trying to remember, when your sabotaging things.
I love my children. They’re really good kids and I’m proud of almost everything they’ve done. I just hope I keep my memory long enough to babysit my grandchildren. As for all you nonparents out there, um, I made all that up. You should have children…