My Mother My Boring Self

Something happens to women once they have a baby. We seem to become boring, self-centered, and neurotic.

I tried to guard against this in myself but (without a full-time paid staff to relieve some of the mommy pressures) resistance was futile. After giving birth I ceased being very good company to anyone other than my adorable baby (whom everyone must admire). I've also noticed that friends who've had kids have ceased being very good company to me.

Having kids is hard on friendships. First, there's the time factor -- you just don't have as much time to hangout with friends when you have a needy baby around. But even worse is the brain factor. Mommy brain just ain't that interesting. Rather than discussing literature and culture and politics, you focus on poop and sleep patterns. It's boring. We're boring.

New mommies also tend to be a tad self-absorbed. I have a mommy blog. 'Nuf said. Friends with babies also display a tone deaf need to talk and talk and talk about the banal intricacies of their mothering life.

Not that there's anything wrong with that. I understand why it happens. It's just boring.

Hello, Darkness, My Old Enemy

Well, it's 3:00 am again and here I am, awake. It happens most nights these days. I've always been a bit of an insomniac. Things I've done or haven't done come crashing down from above to wake me in the wee hours. 

But these days it's different. For the second time in two years, I'm suffering from a frozen shoulder. At least I think that's what I'm suffering from. When Jericho was small, my left shoulder began seizing up. It affected my whole arm, my back, my chest. I couldn't lift my arm very high. I could barely wash or comb my hair. I did physical therapy, saw a orthopedist, got acupuncture ... nothing worked. I would wake up every night at 3:00 am to massage my back on the floor with a tennis ball. That tennis ball and I became very close.

Finally, I found a wonderful massage therapist, Judith. She helped take away the pain. But my shoulder still didn't move right. I couldn't do yoga, which really sucked. Finally, I got sick of dealing with my stupid fucking shoulder and I just began ignoring it. It got better on its own.

Last spring I went back to yoga and things began looking up for me physically. I started to get my body back. It felt very good. I had a brief reprieve at work where I could slip out some days between 12-1:30 pm to sweat and stretch in the glorious Bikram heat. I could almost lift my arms up to touch the sky. 

But then my right arm started acting funny. It threatened to freeze in painful imitation of its left sister. Fuck you, shoulder, I said. I kept doing Bikram to stave off the freezing. Locust pose was particularly helpful. Unfortunately, my cushy gig at work ended and I had to be in court every day. Without that regular dose of yoga, my right shoulder has slowly and steadily followed the icy path of its sister. 

Now the motherfucker wakes me up every fucking night. If I sound testy, it's because I am. I'm tired and in pain. 

But at least it gives me time to blog.

Peeling the Onion

Earlier this year, I recommitted to blogging but then I abruptly stopped. Why? Because I read this snarky article in The Onion. It made me feel that my own blogging efforts were silly, mundane, uninteresting, and, yes, smug. 

However, enough people have told me that they miss my blog, they read it, and think it's -- while not important per se -- at least worth reading occasionally. Putting one's thoughts and feelings out to the blogosphere is a precarious act. You set yourself up for all kinds of snark, even indirect snark directed at people "like you."  

But I decided: Who cares? I want to write. I need to write. So stop reading if you don't like it. And just for good measure, take this cute photo too, suckers.