I may not be breastfeeding anymore, I may be getting much much more sleep than I was a few months ago but still, the babies have stolen my brain.
I forget names (I never, ever used to forget names), if something's not written down it ceases to exist for me, I spent a morning with a friend recently while her birthday present languished forgotten in the boot of my car (that'd be you H), I accidentally logged myself off Springpad and drew a complete blank on my password thereby risking my very existence.
I make lists of things I need to tell friends, I've downloaded an App to help me keep track of my cycle, if it wasn't for facebook I'd be forgetting birthdays left, right and centre. I grapple to find the right words and more often than not, I don't.
I make teetering piles of items I Must Remember to Return to my Mother, I stick Post-It's on the front door to remind me to turn the sprinklers off.
I have to remember to remember in a way I've never done before.
I can detect the distressed cry of a child of mine almost before it's uttered.
I can sense an ominous silence.
I can judge the millimetre difference between adventurous clambering and certain death.
I can pick up the first faint signs of fever on a warm brow.
I can accurately predict how various bodily functions will affect the play of our day.
I can feel hunger.
I can smell fear.
I can read their little body's language better then I can my own.
A few weeks back we all spent the night at my mother's house. I was awoken from a deep (and somewhat wine-induced) slumber by the sound of something falling to the floor in the kitchen.
In a nanosecond I knew exactly where I was, computed that the dogs hadn't barked so the source of the noise couldn't be too sinister, heard my parent's door opening and could tell, by the sound of the footfall, that my mother was going to investigate.
I jumped out of bed to join her and she started when I appeared at her side, as silent and stealthy as a ... well, silent stealthy thing.
While she stood in the doorway still shaking off the fog of sleep and trying to work out what I was doing, I established that the breadboard had fallen over, knocking a cup to the floor. I cleaned up, gave her a hug, turned off the light and was back in bed and asleep before she'd gotten back to her room.
Intuition, experience, logistics - same skills, different applications. Like the difference between book smarts and street smarts, for now I've traded social smarts for parental smarts.
And I'm a pretty sharp parent. As sharp as a ... well, a very sharp thing.