Pre-baby reminiscences

I just finished reading "The Fault in Our Stars" by John Green.
It is a beautiful book. I'm so jealous at John Green's cleverness and wit. It was funny and moving and heart-breaking.

It made me want to write.

If only I had something to write about.

If only I could write something beautiful. Or meaningful. Or insightful. Or even just slightly humorous.

I would settle for slightly humorous.

My creativity has been crowded out of my mind; there's no room for it now, what with all the space being taken up by baby sleeping schedules and baby eating habits and baby finger food lists and baby board books to read and baby age appropriate activities.

 I love my baby girl to the end of time and back, but I do miss my pre-baby mind. Post-baby brain feels like day-old oatmeal.

I'm told that I'll get my old brain back someday. And that it will be even better, sharper, and broader for the experience of motherhood.

I hope that's true but I suspect it's just something we new mothers say to each other to keep the constant demands of motherhood from crushing our morale.

And that's all I have to write about. I'm unsatisfied with it, but I suppose it's not nothing.

is It Tired in Here or is it Just me?

I'm blogging on my back porch.

Think about that for a moment.

Blogging. Out-of-doors.

I friggin' love living in this century.

The temperature outside right now is perfect. Bing is telling me it's 77 degrees. It feels like...fantastic with a hint of deliciousness. Can air be delicious? Well it is.

Next problem this century needs to tackle is eliminating bugs whilst blogging out-of-doors. Ugh.

I put the baby down for the night but now she's awake, sobbing, again. Good grief, what am I going to do with that child? Just go to sleep, kid! We will both feel so much better when you do!

Well, the daylight is completely gone and the mosquitoes are out, which means I'm going back inside.
But it doesn't matter! I still love living in this century, mosquitoes be damned! (or "darned." whatevs.)

Confession time:
I have nothing of interest to blog about tonight. Sorry.
I'm not even sure why I'm here. I thought I was doing a little Pilates and then going to bed, but I found myself opening up blogger instead.

Yeah. Weird.

Here's a morsel of substantial thought, savor it:

My heart is reminiscent of Swiss cheese - swollen and bulging in places, too full of affection and gratitude to be contained, but also pocked and disfigured by gaping holes of loss and regret. I keep waiting for the love, comfort, and abundance to patch up the holes, but they never do. I feel the fullness just as keenly as I feel the aching void. Maybe this disfiguration is what a human heart is meant to look like. This is what Life makes us.