A Little Crazy

I'm not sure if parenthood makes you a little crazy, or if craziness is a prerequisite of the job. For instance, before kids, I would occasionally talk to myself. Typically, I would THINK I was talking to someone, then, realizing they had left the room, would continue to talk to myself by saying "Oh, no one's hear; I guess I'm talking to myself."

You would think that is bad enough. But, having kids has taken my craziness to a new level. First, there are the silly songs. I make up songs for everything. With Mikie, there was the "Mom Loves Mikie" song, the "Spit Up Song", and the ever popular "Snap the Snaps" song for those times when you are laying on the changing table, waiting for someone to snap your snaps. And so, I needed to have a song for Hannah. Something unique. Something like this.

And the craziness doesn't stop with silly songs. There is a plethora of nicknames. Because I can't just call my children by their ACTUAL names. Mikie was "Sir", "Mikie Bear", "Mister Peanut", "Peanut", "Squishy", "Sir Squishy", "Smeagle (rhymes with beagle), and the ever popular "Trouble" (among others). Again, we need names for Hannah. She has become "Nibbles", "Super Nibbles", "Niblet", "Hannah Banana", "Banana", "Tiny", "Mister Tiny", "Princess", "Princess Tinklepants", and the crowd pleaser "Princess Hannah, Duchess of Tinkledom, Countess of Flatulence".

I know. . . she will kill me when she's older. . .

However, the piece de resistance is the conversations. I have full conversations as if Hannah is talking to me. For example, here is one from dinner earlier this week:

Mom: as myself, while placing Hannah in her highchair "Banana, would you like to sit at the table?"

Hannah: smiling "AAAHHHHH".

Mom: still as myself "Here, let me give you your tray to bang on."

Hannah: angrily "AAAAHHHHH!"

Mom: as Hannah "Why do I need a tray? No one else has one."

Mom: as myself "Valid point, Hannah. I'll put it away."

No, I do not have multiple personalities. I just have this craziness that forces me to make up dialogues with my children. What's worse is I don't even realize I'm doing it. Mike and my cousin where making fun of me after the fact, and I didn't even know what they were talking about.

Someone should research this. If you can have Baby-brain while your pregnant, is it so far fetched to think that you could suffer from parental schizophrenia?

Love, The Trahans