I am 100% aware that I am losing my mind. 100%.

Not that long ago, I was cheerily sitting in a conference listening to someone speak about trends in computer-based training. My mind kept wandering, and I kept fidgeting with my laptop in hopes of at least getting something done while I kinda listened. Then the speaker, AS IF HE KNEW I WASN'T PAYING ATTENTION, started talking about how multi-tasking is a myth and then presented information from some studies that has proven that multi-tasking kills brain cells.

Lots of people were live-twittering the conference, and immediately they all started tweeting "BS" as they were living proof that you can absolutely twitter and listen effectively. I didn't call BS because I was all like, "Yeah, I'm multi-tasking right now, and I KNOW I'm not listening that well."

And then I started thinking about how it seems like a lot of my brain cells have gone missing lately. I keep thinking it's "Mommy Brain," but then -THEN- it came to me.

Multi-tasking.

Having a kid.

You can't have one without the other.

I mean, you can't even wipe your own butt without wondering what a kid is doing once you have one roaming around your house. Either the kid has to go to the bathroom with you and you have to try to act like the ringleader at a circus to keep the kid out of trouble, or you are left to fear what room of the house is in the midst of being turned into a disaster zone. Everything about life with kids is a giant game of multi-tasking. EVERYTHING.

Ergo, there is scientific evidence out there that having kids kills brain cells.

That's my excuse for what happened earlier.

I was trying to throw together a quickie dinner of Potato Boats (I'm going to get mocked for this one--oh well). A Potato Boat is a slice of bologna (in our case, faux bologna) with a scoop of mashed potatoes and a cube of cheese on top. It's one of those five-star lunches that I remember very well from grade school, and Alexis LOVES them. Dinner can be served in under five minutes, so I'm game for making them once every three or four months.

I threw the mashed potatoes in the microwave to warm up, grabbed the faux bologna out of the fridge, and then got distracted by the bag of grapes that needed cleaning. I had a few minutes before the potatoes would be finished, so I figured I would take care of the grapes right then and there. I set the faux bologna on the counter and turned my attention to a little grape scrubbing.

A few minutes later, the microwave wailed at me that the potatoes were done, so I turned to start slopping the concoctions together.

The bologna had grown legs and walked away.

I was SURE of it.

And yet, I wasn't.

I thought maybe I had left it in the fridge. Or set it in the cabinet when I opened it to put something away. Or threw it in the trash. Or . . . I started to wonder if it really had grown legs.

"Alexis, did you take the bologna?" I called out.

"Yes," she replied.

"Where did you put it?" I asked.

"I don't know," she replied.

I believed her on both accounts, but I wasn't sure she really understood the question. We so rarely eat Potato Boats that I wasn't positive she actually understood the word "bologna."

"Alexis, did you take the red box?" I tried rephrasing my question.

"Yes," she replied.

"Where did you put it?" I asked.

"I don't know," she replied. Again.

I rephrased the question ten different ways, and each time the answer was the same. Yes, she took it, but she didn't know where it was.

It took twenty minutes to find the faux bologna. In the freezer. Where Alexis put it.

Having kids definitely kills brain cells.