The Dark Side of Neuroplasticity

There's a lot of hype these days about neuroplasticity. It's an amazing feat of the brain that allows it to change itself in response to new experiences. So much so that it can even learn to restructure neural pathways after brain damage incurred from a stroke or brain injury.

That's great for stroke victims. Sucks for parents with small children, though—especially those of us who stay at home and therefore spend way too much time with them.

Before kids I was happy, bright and focused. I could spend hours absorbed in my work, or a book. But since kids my neuroplastic brain has turned to silly putty.

Part of the problem with many moms is that we care too much. We engage.

We get involved in petty squabbles between siblings, hunt for a missing sock for much, much longer than we should. 

Worst of all, we keep trying to answer those baffling questions kids blindside us with. Questions that on the surface seem answerable, but, like a Chinese finger puzzle, become harder the more you try.

For example, my eldest daughter asked this over breakfast yesterday, as I was trying to figure out what to pack in her lunch box:

“Why are there days of the week?”

My answer: “Uhhh...because—well, if you divide the year up...” but it was too long a response time, and they lost interest. To be honest, so did I.

Then, from her four-year-old brother: “Why can't we have Fruit Loops for breakfast?” (with a look of genuine disappointment, like we had never had the discussion.)

“Fruit Loops aren't a healthy breakfast.”

“Why aren't Fruit Loops healthy?”

“Well, there's something called high-fructose corn syrup, and...” Blank stares.

I was in the middle of thinking, “I know I'm smarter than this,” when the middle child suddenly remembered something.

“Mom, Mom, MOM!!” she shouted. “Can we make a crazy sandwich and online it to iCarly?”

At the time this statement was impossible for me to translate. I had no idea what my daughter was talking about. Still, a less emotionally-invested person (i.e. any male relative) would simply say, “Yes!” and let the kids just try to follow through on it.

But it wasn't that simple for me. I was concerned about the mess that could possibly ensue from letting kids make any sandwich, let alone a crazy one. Then there would probably be some attempt to stuff the sandwich into the computer. It was over. I was engaged.

I tried to answer, and felt a thick, sleepy fog descend over me. I asked about the episode of iCarly, then went through a lengthy explanation about why you can't “online” a sandwich, expounded upon what being online really means and, finally, dealt with the resulting disappointment about the matter.

By the end I was sunk deep into a mental quagmire and barely able to remember the names of my own children, let alone what I should pack for my daughter's lunch.

This is not the case for dads.

They just seem to lack the part of the brain that gets all wound up about explaining things. They care less. They are less engaged. That whole “emotionally unavailable” thing that men have? Turns out it's not a handicap! It's a cunning self-defense mechanism against the darker side of neuroplasticity.

For as many moms know, though you might have been a successful criminal prosecutor, a star chemical engineer or, as in my case, an almost-award-winning financial journalist, you will wave goodbye to any intellect you had when you leave your job and spend large amounts of time with small children.

But it's OK, because by the time the last of that intellect permanently evaporates, you won't even remember that old you.