I’m sitting in the bathroom, writing while my kids splash around in the tub, trying to see just how much water the floor can tolerate. This is life right now — sitting on the closed toilet lid, making sure nobody drowns, hoping Rowan doesn’t pee in the water, and telling Lorelei to get her butt out of her brother’s face.
Sometimes, I get overwhelmed by life. Ok, most of the time I get overwhelmed by life. Pretty much always, actually.
And it’s done. Rowan is officially weaned. I want to exclaim how my boobs are mine again, yay! But he seems to think my nipples are some sort of button? They’re his version of a fidget spinner. His security blanket. And omg, I’m about to crawl out of my skin.
True story: Sometimes I don’t write blog posts simply because I cannot think of a good title. Sometimes I don’t write them because I don’t think anybody really cares about regular boring life shit. Then I have to emotionally smack myself around a bit until I remember that while I did start this particular blog with the intention of having readers, it’s not why I started writing in the first place. Writing blog posts was my Facebook On This Day before there was even a Facebook.
I’m sure you know there’s lots to learn
But that’s not your fault, that’s just your turn
Happy October 32nd, everyone! I’ve decided to just ignore November entirely.
I love mid-October because Halloween is my favorite holiday, though I did phone it in a bit this year. Lorelei wanted to be a witch, so our theme was just basic dark fairytale cliches.
For the last couple of weeks, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to identity and how we discern who we are based on what we do. For some people, that might be their career. I have many friends who have pursued one ambition doggedly, and with success, for years or decades. Other friends find their passion in one cause, or maybe two. Some dabble, collecting little pieces of interests that create a mosaic of themselves.