Dumb and Dumber

It is scientifically proven that having bear cubs makes you dumb.  And by "scientifically proven" I mean "see my own life as evidence".  

Before I became a Mama Bear, I heard many other Mama Bears discussing that having children lowered their IQ.  I didn't really get it.  I thought that perhaps it was a bit of maternal hyperbole.  Then I had bear cubs.

When Brother Bear came along, I noticed small changes.  Like, for instance, I would interchange names, or return the peanut butter to the fridge and the jelly to the pantry.  Nothing big, or life threatening.  Just small nuances that only I might notice.  

But it seems that when Sugar Bear exited my body, she sucked every single brain cell I had left right out with her.  I'm literally now hovering 2 IQ points away from being a vegetable.  Not only do I interchange names, I down right forget the name of my most recent born.  I'm constantly saying, "the baby cub" because - for the life of me - I HAVE NO EARTHLY IDEA WHAT HER NAME IS.  I walk into rooms with purpose, but have no recollection what that purpose is.  I begin driving, and find myself going the opposite direction from my final destination.    

If that isn't enough, I had 2 instances this week that prove without a doubt that I have become dumber.  

INSTANCE #1:  DUMB

Brother Bear had a birthday party at The Place Where They Teach Children to Jump Properly.  It is a really fun place.  Interestingly enough, it is also down the street from another party location - The Place Where They Allow Children to Jump Wildly on Inflatable Play Houses.  Due to scheduling issues, Papa Bear had already dropped off Brother Bear at the appropriate birthday party location, and I was to follow shortly.  Sugar Bear and I headed to the party.  We arrived and parked.  I then schlepped the stroller out of the back, unpacked it, unshackled Sugar Bear from her car seat, buckled her in the stroller, grabbed the 18 bags required to go anywhere with bear cubs and began my march into the party.  At which point I realize that - you guessed it - I was at the wrong location.  I had gone to The Place Where They Allow Children to Jump Wildly on Inflatable Play Houses.  Sooooo, I marched back to the car, threw the bags back in, unbuckled Sugar Bear from the stroller, shackled her back in the car seat, wrestled the stroller closed, threw it in the back, loaded myself back in the car and drove 50 yards down the street to The Place Where They Teach Children to Jump Properly and unloaded all over again. 

Sounds like an easy mistake, right?  Well, it would be if I hadn't spent 10 minutes that morning explaining to Papa Bear where exactly this party was located.  I was explicit in my details so that he wouldn't go to the wrong place.  Apparently - while I was attending the lecture - I wasn't listening very well.

INSTANCE #B:  DUMBER

I was in carpool line recently and when I tried to let Brother Bear out, I discovered that we were locked in the car.  Now, those of you who still have brain cells are probably asking, "how in the world do you get locked in the car?"  Well, I tell you.  There was this button  and apparently in my state of being, this button is very tricky.  You know, I should give you a visual of how incredibly tricky said button is.  Look.  I'm sure you will agree:

Seriously, isn't that the most confusing button you've ever seen?  Every time I pressed it in an attempt to allow Brother Bear to exit the vehicle, things started beeping and the door wouldn't open.  After several excruciatingly embarrassing minutes stuck in the carpool line, I finally had to ask Brother Bear to climb up to the front seat where I could allow him to exit the front of the car manually.  

I finally realized - after the fact - that I WAS PUSHING THE LOCK BUTTON EVERY TIME I TRIED TO UNLOCK THE CAR.  Now, it's not like I just pushed this button once and figured it out.  I must have locked the doors at least 10 times in my efforts to extricate Brother Bear from the car, and I never once figured out what I was doing wrong.  I was certain that the car was broken, and needed to be fixed immediately.

So, clearly,  I have all the data I need.  Scientific proof that having bear cubs lowers your IQ.  I think someone should study this phenomenon, don't you?  Yes!  Good Idea!  I'll submit this report to all the scientific journals and The Smart People Who Don't Yet Have Bear Cubs will discover a cure for this unique form of stupidity!  

I'll do it!  But first I have to remember my name and where I need to go, find the right location, and then unlock myself from the car.