Friday, April 23, 2010
Anyone seen my brains?
I watched a thought-provoking movie called "Motherhood" the other day. I think it is by a blogger too which of course should inspire me but instead I get all competitive and want to visit said blog and think smug thoughts to myself like "humph. I can write better than her!" Of course, Hollywood would disagree now wouldn't they? What I dearly loved about it though was that it captured the quirkiness of parenthood and it seems how our generation is so determined to do it our own way. (Have we noticed that we are not unlike the toddlers we are chasing after; stamping our little feet screaming: I can do it myself!!) The other part that I loved was the sense of frustration of losing the ability to have complex thoughts, or get the complex thoughts out into a compound sentence- or even a simple one- and this sense that once you become a mother you have to cease being intelligent for a few years. I think I feel more like what with the lack of sleep and all the little bit of brains I had have not yet awoken. They are furiously pulling the covers over their heads going: woman! When you are asleep for seven consecutive hours two nights in a row, we will return. What I found odd about the movie though was that there were precious few scenes with the mother actually spending time with her children. I have a feeling we have yet to hit the "busy years" as Kaiya is too little for soccer teams and what not but once we start them I hope we don't get so wrapped in springing from activity to activity and still get to spend some quality time. And I wish I could make this post all neat and tidy and deep and meaningful at the same time. But that's sort of the point. I have a feeling things will be messy and dare-I-say? A bit shallow for a few more years. Maybe I'm missing the point though. Maybe real depth comes from the lessons learned through the daily sacrifices of being a parent and it's not so much that I'm losing my brain it's just part of it is turned off while another part is developing. The part that understands it really isn't all about me.