Resolution

I find myself wanting mostly to bitch about the discomforts of third trimester pregnancy, how I'm so ready to be past them, and how being in this place right now makes me feel a little lost in limbo.

She won't dictate my content, but she is dictating 
my cravings for the time being. 
This morning, I would like nothing better than some of 
this mushroom risotto with seared foie on top...

And I haven't been allowing myself to write about those things because it's almost like I think that would be a gateway when these next two months are over to allowing myself to write about how hard it is to function while sleep deprived, how many diapers I changed, how much baby gack I'm having to clean up, how many more trips to the laundromat that means for me...

Followed naturally by how I found this new breastfeeding position to hold Pod in so she doesn't pulverize my nips into hamburger, how these diapers really do keep her skin drier than those diapers, how I steamed and mashed my own peas and carrots, and how she ate them and loved them, and then how she gacked them up anyway, and how that necessitates yet more trips to the laundromat...

Which would then require that I write about how she finally cut a tooth yesterday, and how she refuses to say "mama" but drool-babbles "papa" all day long even though I'm the one whose nips she pulverized into hamburger, how stinky her first meat poops are, how she pet her first puppy today, and how she managed to stick her finger into an electrical socket while I was deadnapping on the couch because she woke me up at 2 in the morning wanting to play peekaboo or some shit like that...

In short, preggo fatigue aside, I haven't been writing because I'm afraid to become, you know, one of those.

I won't even say it here for fear I will turn into one.

Not that they don't serve a great purpose out here in the blogosphere.

Not that the temptation isn't sometimes very strong to tap into that very easily accessible stream of almost hourly autogenerating content.

And not that that I'm not going to be living that kind of stuff to a great extent for a good while to come and not that it won't inevitably manage to occasionally work its way into what I do write.

But just as I've managed to keep myself out of the driver's seat of a minivan for the past thirteen years since I first became a m****-type person, I very much intend to stay in the driver's seat of this blog, no matter how The Pod cries, whines, burps, fusses, gacks, begs, threatens and/or cajoles to take over the wheel.

Now if she bribes me with really good sushi, foie, and unlimited bubbly things to drink, all bets are off.

shinae