As I sat here, deliberating the need for yet another blog on the net, my wriggly, energetic 3-month-old spit up on me for the second time today. The first time was akin to Niagara Falls and necessitated changing my pants, while this one was a mere smattering of curds on my shoulder. As I hastily carried him away from the computeris vitalis, I thought “Surely -someone- would find my daily life amusing, or at least intersting enough to read it. Besides, you should write more anyway.”
Now my son lays happily on the changing table portion of a pack&play, kicking the metal bar at his feet with all his might. Yes, I am a bad parent. I leave my son unattended on a changing pad. Granted, said pad is all of 12 feet away from me, in a room taken up mostly by a king size Sleep Number bed. The room is also occupied by two cheap computer desks side by side (mine is closer to the window), three bookshelves, boxes in various states of being packed, and piles of clothes to be dealt with, both clean and dirty.
The sanity of my decision to become a Stay-At-Home Mother is frequently assessed. I admit I am going somewhat stir-crazy. I -enjoyed- working, however the thought of being away from my child for more than a couple hours brought on some serious panic attacks, not to mention the fact that I’m breastfeeding and didn’t want to deal with all the hullabaloo about expressing milk at work. I was a security officer, so I’m sure my situation would have been a little different than the lucky office workers who do the same.
But I digress. Let this post serve to introduce the world to my strange ramblings, occassional recipes, and utter domesticity of my life. And on that note, I need to gather up the dishes on my desk and start the dishwasher. My son is happily chattering with his mobile that I have managed to fasten to the side of his pack&play -probably violating several safety rules by doing so- and I’m quite sure he’s telling his lion friend that the next time he spits up on me, it’ll be indistinguishable from cottage cheese.