My Smart Barrier.

There are times when I think motherhood has zapped away the majority of my brain cells. I was terribly forgetful when I was pregnant, but I seems like raising a little girl has further dumbed me up (if "dumbed" is even a correct use of the word). I consider my absentmindedness appalling, the other day I didn't remember the currency of Japan. This is ridiculous, because I have lived in Japan.

I have stupid moments like this that depress me all day. I'm a college graduate for crying out loud. I read. I write. Yet my brain is still mush.

Then there are times like yesterday. I have a break though -- a moment of genius clarity -- and I think, "Okay. So maybe I'm not so dumb after all."

As I've mentioned before, my little family is out of town camped in a hotel room. I say "camped," because being in a luxurious hotel room with a king size bed is not a treat. It's almost a punishment. We have a tiny fridge that barely fits all Mugga's juice and yogurt. In haste to stock up on things for my daughter, I failed to buy myself water bottles. Instead of coughing up $3.50 at the hotel for 12 oz. of water, I chose to drink it from the bathroom tap. Yuck.

Taking naps has been so difficult. Sleeping in the same room? Even worse. Imagine sharing a room with someone who goes to bed at 8 p.m. You, on the other hand, like to live a little more at night. You know, do crazy things like watch TV.  Unfortunately you know that even the smallest noise will awaken your moody roommate. She can even hear the typing clicks of a keyboard.

This trip has been hell.

The main problem of sharing a room with my daughter is that she will not sleep if she can see her parents. I've left the room and stood in the hall while she drifts off to sleep, but eventually sometime during her slumber she'll stir and look over. She sees me, she's awake. 

Last night she went down fine. When she woke up at 2:30 a.m. and realized she was in the same room as mom and dad, she was upset. "I should be in that beautiful king size bed too, and not this lame crib," she says with her cries.

It's been hard, so hard. 

But today -- today -- my brain cells worked. As I was getting Mugga ready for her afternoon nap, a genius thought came into my mind. I need to make a barrier.

In the closet I found an extra blanket, draped it across the TV armoire and a tall lamp (unplugged), and wha-la! Instant parent blocker. She couldn't see me in her crib, I couldn't see her on the bed. I read a book for two complete hours with absolutely no interruption.

So maybe sometimes I forget what 8x9 is. Maybe I run to the grocery store and forget to grab fresh basil for dinner -- even if I brought the recipe with me. But maybe, sometimes maybe, I come up with solutions that even MacGyver would approve off. And today, this makes me a genius.