New Mom Physics involves having a little kernel of a thought, like this one: how can I have so much time, like 15 hours a day of time, where I’m doing nothing but wiping up spit bubbles and trying to convince a 22 inch tall person not to yell at me, but be completely, bafflingly unable to get anything done?
In New Mom Physics you think, wow, that’s a really deep thought. Let’s roll with that one. Then you google “space time,” remembering a vague story about astronauts going into outer space for a while and coming back slightly younger than they would’ve been if they’d aged on earth. You end up on a wikipedia page for Time Dilation, which, holy shit you were not ready for that. You need a diet coke. You can’t believe you ever got through the first two chapters of The Elegant Universe in 1999.
Then you start thinking about how 90’s jam band “The String Cheese Incident” and “string theory” both contain the word “string.” You dated a guy in high school who liked that band, didn’t you? Didn’t he travel at some point to multiple cities to follow a Phish tour? Thank god you married the guy whose idea of a good time is a weekend in Atlantic City seeing the 75 year old members of Yes play double-necked guitars with the friends he met on Twitter instead.
Oops. Your child’s whale romper now has a drool stain extending down 5 inches from her mouth. Maybe if you give her a pacifier you can get 5 more quiet minutes to check your Instagram feed before she starts yelling again. You keep her calm in a hand-me-down $300 motorized swing chair, and wonder if she’ll grow up with mental problems because she was mostly parented by a piece of electronic furniture.
What were you thinking about physics again?
Ah! The baby’s asleep. That gives you at least 15 minutes to throw a frozen pizza in the oven and put on a t shirt that’s not covered in barf. You may be able to pee but no promises. Run.