Recently I have been plagued with the feeling that I’m missing something. I’ve patted my pockets, spelunked through the dark depths of my purse, even felt the top of my head to make sure it wasn’t resting there. Yet, no mystery item suddenly appeared. To make things worse, I can’t properly identify exactly what is missing!
Earlier this week, I was finally able to determine what was unaccounted for. And better still, I have a solid lead on how I lost it.
The following items have been MIA:
1. The ability to have more than 1 drink without feeling very tipsy
2. My sense of humor
3. My short term memory- Wait, what was I saying?
4. Beginning a party at 8:00 p.m.
6. The art of doing absolutely nothing whatsoever
7. The ability to sleep in
8. My abs
9. Pooping with any sort of regularity
10. The joy of making a meal for anyone other than myself
Now that I’ve got my list of missing items, it’s time to figure out where exactly these things have disappeared to. Did they go where all items go to die- the school Lost and Found. Are they buried beneath other misplaced and abandoned items, covered in dirt and rain, resting at the bottom of some bin that smells strangely like feet?
Perhaps they are in my own home? Carelessly tossed under the bed or absent-mindedly cast aside into a clearly labeled but oft ignored toy bin? Or maybe they are trapped between the seats of my car with wayward goldfish crackers, Capri Sun straw wrappers and the thermos my son “swears” he brought home last week?
Will these belongings miraculously appear at the end of the school year when the Lost and Found is picked through and all remaining items are hung on the school fence in shame, waiting for its owner to reclaim it?
I used to think there was hope. I believed in my heart of hearts that my personal paraphernalia would return to me. Sadly, that hope has been dashed and my faith in their happy return has been erased because I know with 100% certainty where they have gone. There will be no talk show host holding my trembling hand or soothing my heaving shoulders while announcing, “Well, Normal. We have found your missing sense of humor and your abs.”
There will be no reunion because… My missing items left the building the day I gave birth. And I’m pretty darn sure it has something to do with the “afterbirth.”
I can’t say I have any scientific evidence to support my claim, but I think the problem lies in the fact that we always thought of “afterbirth” as a noun when in reality it’s a phrase.
The whole “afterbirth” has always seemed suspect to me. Does anyone really know what is in the afterbirth? Is it fertilizer for trees? Is it a potential life saving source that should be harvested and preserved? Is it a key ingredient in the most expensive skin care products that keep us looking dewy-fresh and 22, or at least no more than 52? Perhaps.
I believe, however, that upon deeper scientific investigation, experts will find that “afterbirth” is actually more accurately identified as “after birth”– a medical condition. It is nothing more than a condition in which all things memory, ab-tastic and patient have exited the body.
So what can we do about the after effects of “after birth?” How do we justify the loss of memory, the failure to complete multiple shots of tequila and the inability to adequately suck in our stomachs due to ab muscle failure?
Unfortunately, there is only one cure… In a few years we will be able to claim we suffer from a new condition- old age. Sorry, that’s all I could come up with.
It seems I expelled more than babies while in the maternity ward.
That’s just my normal.