We-elllll--I had good intentions. Frankly, I've been so busy since the end of August that I have not only not had time to blog, I've not even had time to have IDEAS. Usually, (if there can be said to be a usually after only a few posts), an interesting topic or funny thought will come to me; I'll notice it, and then make a note to write about it later. Okay, so, if I've been having ideas, I've not noticed them. Mind's a blank slate. Well, not quite blank--more like filled with chores, errands, appointments, dates, times, plumbers, contractors, fundraising, etc.
Ah yes, the Curse of the Mother of the Young. I suppose I could spend hours bemoaning the lack of respect we moms get for the incredibly unimportant job we have of raising good, kind, smart, empathic, sympathetic, motivated, sensitive, athletic, unselfish children--you know, producing an all-round good guy/gal kind of human being, but why bother? The people who would recognize it, already know all about it, and the people who need to get a clue will only ever read it when those proverbial pigs fly. I don't think anyone realizes (except those of us who do the job) how time-consuming (maybe time-gobbling would be more accurate) and all-encompassing a job raising those cute litte rugrats can be.
Now, before any folks get their knickers in a twist, I am NOT dissing the working mom. If anything, the working mom generally has an even harder time--with two full jobs. And as for all of you with the other type of private parts, well, I don't mean to exclude those of you who take on what has "traditionally" been the mom's role; you guys are in the same wildly rocking boat. But truly, there are so few of you . . . On second thought, maybe your boat is a little different--b/c many in society probably look in askance at the role you have chosen to take on. And that's no fun, is it?
So all the aforementioned blah, blah (which I did not intend to write about when I started this post) really just illustrates the hazards of making generalizations. Though they are kind of fun to do when you're in a pissy mood.
I think I'll have some things to say about vacations, air travel and the words kids choose to call their mothers. . .but I've got to go supervise dinner.
Ah, a mother's work is never done. . .
Postscript: I saved this in draft form, thinking I'd go back later and edit. . .but then I realized it would never end up getting posted. I've got to just post stuff in raw form when I get the chance--b/c my life right now does not afford me the luxury of lots of time for writing. . .So here it is. . .raw and unedited.