What beast is this, that slouched toward Washington, DC to be born? Oh, right, it is my wriggly little “sun”. I’m a mother now, with the attendant burden of societal expectations on what a mother should be and should do. Indeed, it’s expected that I spent 24/7 doting on my newborn when he’s awake, and thinking of him when he’s sleeping. Motherhood is a title that promises blame should my wee bugger act like anything but a silent tidy toy baby.
Given those stressors, why am I wasting time rebooting my blog with new posts, or watching World War Z to inspire my zombie apocalypse short story, or looking up game guides for Don’t Starve: Shipwrecked? Why am I not at Mommy Baby-Wearing Support Groups or handweaving my son’s first blanket or harvesting organic kale and heirloom tomatoes for mushy first baby meals? Because that ain’t me. I love my son more than anything, but hey, he’ll have to accept that his mommy’s a geeky weirdo. And more likely than not, he’ll be a geeky weirdo too.
All of this is a short way of saying, I’m back so be prepared: Some revelations are at hand.