Motherhood and Otherhood

Ahhh, friends.

If friends, yet ye be.

Fret not.

I have not forsaken my blog.

It's just moved from the back seat to the trailer.

Not to fear; though this motherhood thing has seemingly poached the creative being in me, really it's just gone through a slight metamorphosis:

Instead of making up blog posts these days, I make up songs.

Songs about dirty diapers.
Songs about eating vegetables.
Songs about not touching the TV.
Songs about not touching the computer.
Songs about don't touch the computer.
Songs about seriously, I'm not kidding, don't touch the computer.
Songs about mealtime, bath time, story time, prayer time and bedtime.
Songs about how mom's so tired that she can't see straight and she's only got ONE child.

I plan on transcribing these songs someday.  A platinum record in the making, I'm sure.  Actually, if it were up to my husband, I would channel such creativity into writing children's books.  Just last night, he described the painful experience it is for him to read a certain 60+ year-old book about a certain celestial orb that shows itself each night and which we salute with our good nights and jumping cows and little kittens and pairs of mittens (not forgetting the combs and brushes and bowl full of mushes).

He actually used the "h" word in his description.  And for a man who abhors the "h" word, that's saying something.  At least it said something to me:  No matter how much of a perceived literary classic you've created, there will be always someone out there who can't stand it.  Motivating thoughts, I assure you.  But...the prospect of trying my hand at children's literature is not completely off the table.

We shall see.

And that brings me to the concept of Otherhood.  Perhaps I should give myself a little credit here.  True, I only have one child.  But to bridge the gap between now and someday (prose for another post), I've taken a part-time job.  One that, gratefully, I can do from home.  But one that, nonetheless, often takes up nap time and any other spare time that I might have during the day.  Again, my hat goes off and my heart goes out to single parents.  You have my respect and my empathy.  (And if you're anything like me, your house has my complete and utter sympathy.)

And so, as I toil to come into my own in Motherhood, I find myself negotiating the world of Otherhood.   It's a curious balance.  And an ever-changing one, at that.  I can honestly say that such a balancing act has forced me to dig much deeper into myself than I heretofore have done.  (I love me some of ye Olde English.)  And I've been surprised at what I've found.  Some good surprises.  And some otherwise.  At any rate, it's been a refining process.  And, yes, just another testament that the purpose of this life is to give us experience, and that the purpose of trials is to polish the good and burn out the dross.

And perhaps I'll eventually share what could potentially be the biggest surprise of my requisite foray into Otherhood. 

The time is not yet ripe. 

But, suffice it to know that it may involve dots, frills and cows jumping over the moon.