in which I expose my mental deficiency to the internet

So far, during each of my two pregnancies, I have had one defining moment of ridiculously embarrassing “baby brain” – where gestating a fetus makes you not only fat and hungry, it also appears to drain mental resources to an alarmingly low level.

When I was pregnant with Evan, I came into work one morning and needed to edit a document. I completely forgot where to find the Track Changes feature in Microsoft Word. I looked high and low and became irrationally irritated that I could not find Track Changes under the Edit menu. Hello, I would like to edit this document. I would also like to track my edits. Why, for the love of all things holy would it not be under the Edit menu?

After ten minutes of searching, I found it.

Under the Tools menu.

Where it had clearly lived all along, and somehow my brain – despite having edited Microsoft Word documents pretty much on a daily basis since, I don’t know, 1995 – could not retain this information.

Well, my friends, today it got worse. I have been very annoyed lately with the company who manages my flexible spending account. I had faxed them a claim form almost a month ago and still hadn’t received payment. Last week, I called to inquire as to why that was. The woman on the phone couldn’t find it in the system, so she asked me to fax it to her again directly and said she’d call me when she received it to confirm that she was putting it in for processing. Today, I realized that I had never heard from her so I called back ready to do battle. I was prepared, filled with righteous indignation and ready to get all up in her business about their poor customer service.

When I got her on the phone, she again told me that she had not received my fax. My irritation level was reaching an all-time high. Then she asked me what area code I had sent it from. I told her and she shuffled some papers around. She said “hmmm, that’s interesting because I did receive a fax from that exact same area code with five blank pages.” She asked me to fax it again. I reluctantly agreed.

Puzzled, I walked outside my office and asked my assistant, “Hey, you know that new fax machine? You’re supposed to put the papers in upside down, right?” She looked at me funny and shook her head no.

Yes, that’s right. I had faxed her five blank pages, TWICE. Because I could not remember how to operate the fax machine.

For now, my baby brain appears confined to forgetting how to operate basic office equipment. Stay tuned for next week, when I may gaze wonderingly at my stapler and wonder what it’s for.