Temporary Insanity

I thought I had baby brain when I was pregnant with Jack.  I think the extent of it was once putting ice cream in the refrigerator instead of the freezer.  With this baby, however, I seem to be in a race to do every stereotypically flighty thing there is.  Until earlier this week, I have been soaring along, even forgetting at times that I am pregnant.  I have been going to my same hatha flow yoga class.  I have been walking, talking and generally getting through the day like a normal person.  Then, on Tuesday, I enthusiastically threw my left leg up in the air in the downward dog position and reveled in my own flexibility...until my yoga instructor came by and whispered, "right."  I had clearly heard her say, "right leg" but my left had involuntarily shot up anyway.  This wouldn't be particularly remarkable if I didn't do almost the exact same thing six more times during the hour-long class.  And this was only the beginning.
The next day, while leaving the house with Jack, I walked out in the garage with my keys in one hand, trash for the recycle bin in the other... and promptly threw my keys in the recycle bin.  I quickly realized my mistake and wasn't quite as far gone as to think I could start my car with a flattened milk carton, so I had to do some digging in the bin - not an easy task at twenty-two weeks pregnant.
The following morning, while Jack and I were upstairs getting ready for an appointment with a potential preschool, Jason called up, "Uh, baby?  There's a big mess down here."  I thought the dog had thrown up or something, but no, Jason continued with, "The pot wasn't under the coffee maker when it started.  There's coffee everywhere."  I groaned, knowing I was the only potential culprit for that one.  (You'll note Jason is a very smart man - He didn't accusatorily say, "YOU didn't put the pot under the coffee maker," despite the fact the fault was obviously mine.  He's been through the reactionary emotional roller coaster of pregnancy before.)  Jason had to run off to work.  I got downstairs to discover the coffee pot in the dish drainer - nowhere near the coffee maker.  I spent a good portion of the morning hurriedly cleaning up the mess, so we could get off to our appointment with the preschool.
The very NEXT morning, after I had the evening before, very meticulously set up the coffee, pot included, to start in the morning, I got downstairs and the pot wasn't even on.  My first thought:  "What the f&*k!  I can't even make coffee anymore!"  Upon investigation, I discovered that when I had unplugged the machine the day before to clean up the mess, I had neglected to reset the timer.  So, there had been a wonderfully fresh pot of coffee... at midnight, the timer default.
Later that same day, Jack and I had lunch at a restaurant with a friend and her son.  We had a great time, and on the way out, she carried both of our leftovers while I held hands with both kids.  When we got to the cars, she set my leftover box on top of my van and jokingly told me not to forget and leave it up there (I had told her the coffee story.)  I laughed, she went to her car right next to mine, and I strapped Jack into his car seat.  As I was getting ready to drive off, my friend came back to my car and I rolled down the window, wondering what she had to tell me.  Without a word, she reached up and handed me my leftovers, which were, yes, still on top of the car.  I had forgotten about them in the space of about thirty seconds.
All of these incidences happened in the space of about four days, so I am feeling close to certifiably nuts now.  If it gets any worse, I'll have to recommend taking me off the road, because, in this state, I definitely should not be operating heavy machinery.  In fact, I should probably stay away from the stove; I might hurt myself.  I don't think I should be operating the washing machine or the dish washer, either, and maybe I should lay off cleaning or vacuuming, too; you never know what might happen... come to think of it, maybe baby brain isn't so bad. Hmmm, being slightly nuts could get me out of a lot of chores and possibly get me some sympathy to boot.  Maybe they'll even add it to the list of official disorders.  Now all I have to do is work on an excuse for the rest of my non-pregnant life...