First, let me begin with an excuse note for my absence. I have to admit that the blog became quite a monster there for a while. I was taking so many clients last fall (praise God!), and so many things were falling through the cracks, that I decided I needed to pick my priorities carefully. So, that’s why I haven’t blogged in like, forever. And, I have to tell you all – especially those of you who have protested my truancy – thank you all for even caring that I am writing at all. I mean, God love you, if my pee-pants little ol’ self is entertaining someone other than my Mama and Daddy, Dancin’ Jimmy, and my feminine peeps around here, my day is worth getting up for.
And now for something completely different...
(Guilty Pleasure #45,896 – Monty Python)
So, I got my dream camera. And, the past few weeks I have had the luxury of taking pictures FOR ME. Although, the people around here are no more impressed with my new camera than if I had bought a new bra. And, I’m having a heck of a time getting willing participants. And, all the booty-shaking, chuckling, funny faces, and goofiness that works on my clients (usually) is nothing novel for the people who share my DNA in this house. So, I like to call this body of work, officially, with a little smirk, "photojournalism."
AND....all that is to say, dude (as a certain fellow-mommy-blogger would say)! Look at this cute pic!
I was going through some snaps I took this morning while Peanut was playing dolls and saw this. My first thought was, “Aw…I wonder if boys have this intuition?” I wouldn’t know. Well, maybe…I really don’t remember my two brothers ever covering up a doll, or even caring if a doll were in the room. Maybe, if it was a “Fisher-Price Man” who was about to use his cool little car with a real pulley on the front to help his stranded Evil Knievel buddy out of a ditch. But, no. No motherly instincts.
This pic brings about the same thought, I think, to just about every mom of a daughter. Instinct. My good friend, and a favorite client, commented on this pic after I uploaded it to Facebook.
That was so sweet of her to equate it to me. But, it’s all a sham. Well, maybe not. Not if you are measuring my ability to make sure a baby is warm. I AM SO DOWN WITH THAT! I can make a baby warm. In fact, I probably am the best at it. If any of you need any help with baby-warming. Please call. I’m all over it.
However, what you never see a little girl do, is practice telling the baby doll how to pick the right man. Or, telling her what time to be home on a Friday night. Or, taking the doll and her friends to the mall. Or, cleaning up after her friends’ sleepover. No. You don’t practice as a little girl, how to tell your little ones that mommy and daddy will no longer be living together. Or, what to do when their boyfriend stands them up. Or, what to say when those mean girls at school don’t like their clothes.
Yikes. Parenting is hard.
I have attempted to dive into the mommy-blogging world. I have found mostly it is a lot of the same stuff. Another reason I haven’t blogged much lately. I feel like I’m repeating myself, and for sure – others. Most of the mommy-blogging, is baby-blogging. And, me, being a mom of a current “baby” of 20 months, I can so relate. I can relate to the frequent night wakings, the guilt over not nursing, the desire to hire a nanny, and the yearning for a glass of wine in the middle of the day. Yes, I can relate.
But, I can also relate to the women out there who are wading through the delicate world of how to teach your twelve-year-old what matches what, and how to do her own hair. How to decide which of my teen’s friends is okay to say, “Yes, it’s okay if I drop you off at the mall with _____, and I’ll pick you up later.” How to tell yourself it’s okay to let go. It is especially hard when you still have a baby at home. It’s not as easy to remember who you need to hold hands tightly with in the parking lot, and who you need to let go to start being the woman you are trying to raise. In the minutia of life, sometimes I find myself handcuffing my sweet Moey to my left arm, and giving Anna the keys to the car. Then, I do the animated double-take (eyeyeyeyeye!) and come to my senses.
So, yeah. I can warm a baby. Can’t nurse one, but man, my babies were WARM. But, I really have no freaking idea how to make a young woman. No clue. So, where are my peeps? Where are the mommies-of-teen-and-tween-bloggers? I NEED YOU!
Hip-hip-hooray…I’m here to try to find them. Wish me luck.