This morning, my mountain of chores and tasks had me confused as usual where to start. My alter ego said, "Why don't you start by making the beds?"
"Good idea!" I replied. "Thanks....er, Honey."
"Don't call me 'Honey'. I hate that."
"Yeah, me too."
What the- ? I was talking to myself. Out loud.
When I was working full time - at an actual job that paid me for wearing nice clothes - I used to talk to myself all the time. My co-workers would look at me and say, "are you having a conversation with yourself?"
And I was. A full fledged conversation. Asking myself questions and answering them. It was disturbing to watch, I'm sure. But you know what? It helped me get the job done. Instead of those words and tasks running amuck in my head, my "assistant" would blurt out the next obvious step and it was all business.
I should've name her Pepper Pots.
In the days before baby-brain set in, I was like Pepper Pots. Well, a slightly disorganized version. A little heavier, too. Actually, I was nothing like Pepper Pots - I'm just wondering how many times I can include her name in one paragraph. And if you're wondering, Pepper Pots is that fabulous secretary for Tony Starks (Iron Man), played by the cute-but-not-at-all-sexy Gwyneth Paltrow.
They say that talking to yourself is a healthy habit. Don't ask me who said it exactly, or why "They" think it's healthy - I'm just assuming it is because of how much it helped me. I stopped talking to myself when the boys happened. Communication became this split personality of talking normally, infused with yelling in baby talk.
A typical cell phone conversation at the park went something like this, "I'm calling to get the paperwork to pilfer my 401k...SAMU DON'T TOUCH THAT, ICKY POO...sorry, where was I?"
When there was nothing to say, it was just easier to shut up and listen to the hum of my headache. My "assistant" probably felt neglected and took a well deserved vacation.
But she came back. Must've heard through the neurological grapevine the calamitous state of my affairs. Thus, when she found me this morning, in the eye of the hurricane-mess in my boys room, she took over. The room got cleaned, my day got planned and she got her old job back.
Wait till the boys meet her! They'll say, "Who are you talking to, mom?"