One week in and I’m already redesigning the blog.*
I’m like that with rearranging the furniture in my house, too. An OCD of sorts, passed down through the gene pool – thanks Mom. You couldn’t have passed on china doll porcelain skin or Tina Turner-long legs? Instead OCD and IBS. When the condition has a three letter abbreviation, you know you’re in for some shit. Heredity sure is a peach.
Anyway, I decided I should be a bit more specific and call these daily ramblings of mine exactly what they are – the nap diaries. While my one-year-old son Kellan naps, I write. Simple as that. Also as simple as that? When he wakes, I cannot write. Or do anything. I turn into my son’s real life Muppet, much like Cinderella turning into a pumpkin at midnight. (I have always loved Kermit so I picture my muppet self as a female version of him. See illustration below.)
Kellan insists I stand at attention at all times. Hands in a clap-ready position to immediately praise his new amazing trick, cheesy smile constantly plastered on my face, except for when he’s sad, as he expects me to mimic his every emotion and pretend to be sad along with him. (How can a one-year-old know what sad is, anyway? His 365+ days on this earth have been pretty great, if I do say so myself. Sad shmad. Although he could have learned sad from the dog, come to think of it, our now neglected first-born.)
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining.
I’m just trying to paint a canvas of my life for you. By the way, I ran out of paint, so I’m using Desitin and Butt Paste. This should really be a masterpiece. A framer.
Bottom line. Basic order of operations: Mommy. Writer. Notice how Mommy precedes Writer. Kellan does. Hence, the nap diaries. Enjoy and happy Friday.
*Special thank you to Carolynn, my Two Brunettes Design Co. copilot for her sweet, sweet design skills. (Again, TBD very soon.)