Our illustrious friend Minsun coined the phrase Dumbness Induced by Pregnancy Syndrome, otherwise known as DIPS. She should really be applauded for her insight on the effects pregnancy has on your brain. If you haven't checked out her DIPS journal yet, I think you should definitely read that work of genius first.
Week 17 for me was filled with dumbness beyond belief. I was almost starting to think that I may have needed to spend a couple of weeks in a mental institution for some quiet time. I knew that there was definitely a problem with my logical thinking process when in the middle of class I suddenly forgot how to do math. Keep in mind that I teach an eighth grade algebra class. There I am, standing at the overhead projector, and all of the sudden -- blank. Completely blank. Now I'm not talking about forgetting how to use the distributive property or how to multiply polynomials -- much dumber than that. I'm talking about completely forgetting how to add. For the life of me I couldn't figure out what eight plus five was. I stood there frozen in mid-sentence and looked at the kids, as if their eyes held the answer. Half of them looked at me with an expression that said, yup, she's finally lost it. Much to my dismay, I had to secretly count on my fingers to get the answer. Duh!
Later that week Frank and I went to file our taxes, and I decided that I was too lazy to put in my contacts and went to get my glasses. I am a creature of habit, and if things like my glasses or my keys aren't in the usual places I put them, chances are slim that I will find them in a reasonable amount of time. The proper resting place for my glasses is on the edge of the bed frame or on the bathroom counter. When checked in those two places and couldn't find them there, I immediately snapped an attitude and stomped around the house on what I knew would be at least a fifteen-minute search. After about ten minutes I was pushing my patience level and I asked Frank if he had seen my glasses, and of course, he said he hadn't. The dufus smirk on his face should have clued me in on trickery on his part, but all my one-track mind could think was, find the damn glasses. After another five minutes, I was peeved enough to leave the quest behind and relent to wearing my contact lenses. I went to the bathroom, got out the necessary supplies, and had the right lens teetering on the edge of my finger. When I looked into the mirror to insert that flimsy piece of plastic that would take me out of my misery, I was stunned to see that my stupid glasses were on my face! I had spent most of the time looking in both of our bathrooms for the suckers, and not once when I glanced in the mirrors did I realize that I was wearing the object of my search. Frank stood back with this retarded grin on his face and broke out into a good, gut-wrenching laugh. I'm glad he found some humor in the situation. Actually, it was quite funny, and after I got over being mad at myself for being so blind, I, too, spontaneously cracked up laughing. Of course, this was twenty minutes later when we were sitting at the desk with the tax preparer, and I had no apparent reason to be sent into a fit of the giggles.
The last, and perhaps worse thing I did happened that weekend when I was shopping with Mommy and Frank for maternity clothes. Well, actually, they were shopping for me, and I just stood there holding all the clothes they found, as I have little ability to shop for myself. Anyway, after I was sufficiently loaded down with clothes, Mom and I picked out a few outfits that I should try on before purchasing. She went into the dressing room with me, and when I tried one particular three-piece pantsuit we decided against buying it for some vague reason I can't remember. I hung up the pants and the jacket, and immediately started fishing for the stack of clothes we brought in because I couldn't figure out what I did with the shirt. Mom asked me what I was doing, and I told her that I was looking for the shirt so I could hang it back up. She looked at me with this, "She can't be serious" expression and said, "Uh, you're still wearing it." I looked down, and sure enough, there was the shirt plastered to my oversized belly. As if to say, Geez, Mom, you're kind-of on the slow side today, I felt both babies roll around, probably laughing at me.
Suffering from DIPS is a mild annoyance that is aggravating for you, but truckloads of fun for everyone else. Other things have happened throughout the weeks, but I'm too dumb to remember them. Yup, I have definitely lost it all. Not that I had it all to begin with.