Kids think you’re super pretty even when you look really bad. They like your shoes. They like your hair. They like the way your eyes smile. It’s a real boost. Kids are also gross. They lick the stage while waiting for photo ops. They sometimes lick you. They need tissues. I know it’s immature to find this funny, but I do. Enjoying people at their grossest has a gritty charm to it. I hope someone’s around to find me charming when I get old and start inappropriate licking.
The only way to keep from feeling frustrated past the point of self control is to submit to Motherhood.
Over the next weeks, I’m not going to accomplish what I want to, or even most of what I need to. That little death to self is a good thing. Somebody keep reminding me!
Your muse sucks sometimes. She treats you bad. Set boundaries for the relationship. Too much time with frigid non-corporeal women is toxic.
My eleven year old daughter, who, not ten minutes ago, was riding a wave of euphoria while singing her new song, is now angry and in tears because that same song “is actually trash.” I’ve been writing (as a career) for twenty one years now, and I still do the same thing.