Moms, remember knowledge?

What is so flat about young mother’s conversation? It’s like my brain fused with my uterus and they were both massaged back into that passive space in my abdomen deep inside. I don’t remember how to communicate anymore. Are we supposed to think about more than just survival?

Did I used to think about more than survival at some point?

Childcare feels like it’s taking up 90 % of my headspace. Like if I don’t solve this childcare problem, I’ll just have to go to work while they free range in my kitchen with all the knives, finding mushrooms to eat in the corners of our backyard. Maybe they could find a phone if there was an emergency.

This is serious.

I wish there were a way to reintroduce myself to the rest of my brain. Remember knowledge? Learning? Oh yes, math tables on flashcards. Wait no, that was my daughter’s homework. I don’t remember my own knowledge. What was that like? My book club never had members. I wasn’t even a member.

Can I survive without these deeper parts surviving? Every time I have to multitask I feel it die a little. But then one conversation re-ignites it again. I feel it dying with every load of laundry. But then, my daughter asks her constant question, “Why?” and I remember I have something stored away I can call up.

There is more to me than just making babies and milk. Making dinner and making a living so I can feed those mouths. There is more to me.

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