I have long believed that the placenta is directly attached to a big chunk of the mother's brain, so that after childbirth, her IQ is permanently decreased. I'm okay with this. I've had almost 6 (!) years to come to grips with it, and I've decided I like my new, more svelte IQ. I'm okay with forgetting my car keys four times a day, and then not being able to find them a fifth time because they're already in my hand. I'm comfortable with telling Emily to go pick out her clothes for school tomorrow and getting the "But tomorrow is Sunday" look. I'm now accustomed to picking up the phone, dialing 6 digits, and having to hang up because I can't remember who I was going to call.

But. I have also discovered that, at least for me, my ability to nap was also stored in that chunk of brain. Before I had children, naps were an easy, comfortable, fun way to spend an afternoon, and then I'd be energetic and alert for the evening. Since then, not so much.

Now, on the rare occasion when my tiredness overcomes my but-I-know-better sense, and I do nap, I fall instantly into a hard-core sleep from which a thermonuclear attack on the foot of my bed might, MIGHT, cause me to roll over and say, "Mmph." Then, when I do finally dredge myself back into consciousness, I spend the rest of the day feeling groggy and headachy and cranky and sleepy and whichever of the other Seven Dwarves apply. And I have bed face and bad hair.

Then, to add injury to insult, I ate chicken wings for lunch. (The whole time telling myself, "I really need to lose weight, this is ridiculous.") But I, again, didn't listen to the smarter half of my brain, and I ate them and then immediately laid down for the nap. So now my stomach is all greasy and blech. It, in fact, roils - which is a verb I've read in reference to a stomach before, but had never actually experienced it before today. Blech, blech, I tell you.

I'm a delight to be around right now.