Is it just me, or did all that wit fly out the window when my kids came into the picture?
Marilyn Kentz: I believe women are the smarter of the sexes. No man has a chance in an argument when we rattle off dates, facts, and details about particular infractions of the past. Our men just stammer and get madder because they don't hold a candle to us. However, for whatever reason, once we have children, we seem to lose a few brain cells, and they keep going down the drain the older we get.
Case in point: I once found my cell phone in the freezer. But the one that really drives me crazy is mom-aphasia (an acquired disorder in which there is an impairment of any language modality. This may include difficulty in producing or comprehending spoken language). Here is how it manifests ...
I'm having lunch with a couple of good friends. We're laughing and telling each other stories of our past week's experiences. I begin a very entertaining sentence -- one with a lot of promise, one with enthusiasm. I'm titillated at the potential of my entertaining story. It's really beginning to flow. Then -- pop! -- that great, impressive, perfect word I was fully intending to use suddenly disappears. Gone. While my listeners are observing the look of terror on my face, I hastily begin my private "word hunt."
I don't want to use the easy, banal word. I want the impressive one. It's key to the amusement value. This used to be easy. Close-sounding words with very different meanings try to persuade me to accept them. Obviously struggling, my caring friends notice and start rooting for me. They begin to throw out other useful, colorful, but incorrect words -- which only throws me more off course. At that point, I just abandon the whole thing and hang my head in shame. I've lost my audience. Years of being proud of my intelligence and the building of a tender self-esteem have now all disappeared. I move on, trying to keep up with the flow of conversation, all the while continuing my search ... because now it's bugging me. The word has gotten under my skin. I'm fixated on it. Then, much later -- hours, sometimes days, later -- that little teaser pokes its slippery head out. But my audience is long gone. No one cares anymore. Still, once my impressive word has come back home, I let out a sigh of relief. Ahhhhhh, there you are! That's it! That's the word. I can finally sleep now.
Thanks a lot, kids. Don't forget all that Mommy has sacrificed for you. I want to see it reflected in my next Mother's Day gift.
|Marilyn Kentz is the brunette half of the '90s comedy duo "The Mommies" and author of "A Ten-Step Guide to Fearless Aging."|