What's your name again?

I'm having pregnancy brain. AKA "mommy brain" though I won't call it that because I'm not a mommy yet – and maybe "Mother" (capital M) suits me better.

But I digress. Pregnancy has fried the part of my brain that remembers things. I forget things in mid-sentence. I forget to reply to an e-mail the second after I read it. I forgot, one time last week, to attend the afternoon news meeting – a meeting I've attended five days a week for 10 years. TEN YEARS. Two editors came looking for me and I was oblivious to context clues.

"Where's the wire editor?"

"I'm here!"

"We need someone to come to the meeting to talk about the wire stories."

"Oh, right. Let me put down this doughnut."

I've edited stories, had questions, called editors on the East Coast, got answers, then processed the stories without fixing the problem I just spent time solving. I calculated my overtime so incredibly wrong last week that my boss almost had a heart attack.

The doctor and the books say this is normal. As do all of my Mommy/Mother friends. Something about extra hormones and all that (hormones have become quite the excuse reason for most things, including pumpkin pie cravings).

But despite making lists and keeping a more detailed calendar than usual, I still feel like I'm in a bit of a fog most of the time. But it's a really happy fog.