Mom Brain

I am finding that my already ample "I can't believe I just did that" moments are increasing lately with alarming frequency. As my children get older and my brain continues its slow and steady conversion into fluffy cotton candy, I am asking myself more and more, "did I seriously just do that?" and, sadly the answer is always a resounding, "Why, yes! Yes I sure did."

Sometimes these moments start with a good idea. This one did, anyway.

Since potato soup was on the menu for our Flagstaff trip, I had the genius idea of making the accompanying  rolls beforehand so we didn't have to mess with it while we were there. (Frozen rolls, not homemade, otherwise this story would seem a little more tragic.) I got out the rolls to allow plenty of time to defrost, rise, and bake before we left that afternoon...after which I promptly forgot about them.

I wandered into the kitchen some several hours later to discover their swollen state, so I quickly pulled off the plastic wrap and pre-heated the oven so that I could pop them right in before they started to deflate. Then I ran into the office to work on a discussion question that was due that day, and when I came back out at least 45 minutes later, the taunting hum of the oven reminded me that I had never put the rolls in at all. If they were a little puffy before, they were Ginormous at this point by comparison. I mentally kicked myself, and asked myself the obligatory, "did I seriously just do that??" after which, not to be dissuaded by even my own brain deterioration, I put them into the oven and crossed my fingers that they would not completely explode in there.

They didn't; they just got even huger and rounder, and since, at this point, it was time for us to be leaving, I hastily threw them into a bag and hoped for the best.

This is what they looked like right out of the oven:

But by the time we got to the cabin, they looked at though they had been tucked nice and snuggly under somebody's warm buns for the entire two-hour drive. (Sorry, no photo. My shame and consternation were too great.)

I told my mother-in-law that I was going to go ahead and blame the change in elevation on the destruction of my poor rolls. But we all knew that soft and sticky Mom Brain was the real culprit.

I'll tell you one thing, though...they still tasted pretty darn good.

When was your last Mom Brain moment?