Wow. Wow. Wow, wow, wow. How can you have so much time and get absolutely nothing done? I don’t feel like I’m doing a lot. Even though I am, and every time I lament my feelings of uselessness to the Beard he reminds me that I’m doing something really important. Feeding another human with my flesh and blood, for example. But, shit, it still just feels like laying around in bed most days. This blog post pretty much sums it up. And as the House of Flurfel writer points out in that post, in part it’s not that you’re not doing anything when you’re mama-ing, it’s that you’re never, ever finished. Because kids are never “finished,” and their constant interruptions mean everything else has to happen in three to five minute increments.
So, umm, sorry about all those comments on blogs that I haven’t responded to. (To the person who keeps asking about how we wash our cloth diapers, and who I think assumes we are way more badassly off-griddy with that sort of thing than we are: We have a washing machine. It has a cycle called “baby clothes.” And I am so glad. Hanging up the laundry is a task that I can only accomplish over multiple days, so I can’t even frickin’ imagine having to actually scrub the goo out of every one of those little scraps of fabric by hand. I know people who have done it. But I remain foreign to their numbers, green as it might be.) There are blog posts and ramblings and rantings backed up in my head to fill this space every day for months. But instead you’re probably going to be facing a lot more empty space than I’d like. I just hope you all stick around to find out what sort of blog rhythm I manage to settle into here, post baby Pickles. And I also just hope that my head doesn’t explode beforehand, unwritten words oozing out of my ears.