The other day, I ran into a pregnant mother of two at the mall, trailing the kindergartner who's in my daughter's class, and her preschooler. I mentioned Thing 2 and I were looking forward to the playdate we'd scheduled with her kindergartner the upcoming Saturday, and she got a puzzled look on her face. "Wait, is that the 7th?" she asked. I nodded. "That's her birthday," she exclaimed, pointing to her preschooler. The mom had actually suggested the date to me about three or four weeks back in an email, when she wrote about making a playdate. Now it was suddenly occurring to her that she'd double-booked, and not just on any day, but her other daughter's birthday. She turned a bit reddish and then said something to the affect of, "You must think I'm a total space cadet. But see, I have three calendars. I know I shouldn't but ..." And on she went until I interrupted with this: "It's fine, I get it. I have Mom Brain too. You not only have Mom Brain, you have Pregnant Mom Brain." She knew what I was talking about: moms have too friggin' much to remember. And it's to the point where, yes, you could actually FORGET the date of your own kid's birthday in a moment of well-intentioned, over-scheduling madness.
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