Of all things to prompt me to start writing again, I guess that's as good a reason as any. Comebacks are best made not with a bang but a whimper. Especially when it's a blog about a baby.
After all this time though, I guess Maya officially qualifies as a toddler. She walks like a pro and has a better vocabulary than some college students seem to display, at least in a few essays from my teaching days. Come to think of it, the way she enunciates her words is not unlike an inebriated college student.
After her first birthday, I had a few months of "what am I doing?" angst. I was mired in feeling like I should be writing--like really writing. Like "Antoine you need to get a job job." ('Treme, anyone? HBO?) Whatever that means. But you know what? I just didn't. I didn't make the time. I didn't take the time. And without time, you sure can't write much. Nothing anyone would ever want to publish or pay you for. Instead, I went to the park, went out to lunch, laid on the floor, blew bubbles, met friends for happy hours (that last one usually didn't involve Maya), watched entire seasons of Californication and Shamelss when I realized we had Showtime... you get the picture. Then my angst receded. I started to be okay with the idea that eventually I'd make writing a priority, but apparently not now. S'awright.
On Wednesday, Maya had her 15 month well visit with the pediatrician. She did great, but it involved two shots, so as a reward for the arduous morning, I took us to a local pizza place for lunch. I got two slices of our favorite, tomato, avocado and feta, to go, then proceeded to put the box on top of my car so I could open the door and put Maya in her carseat with both hands, tell Maya that I would probably drive away with it like that (thinking that acknowledgment would be like insurance), then do just that. I got home and realized the pizza was not to be found. Fortunately my mom would move mountains to see her granddaughter for an hour, so bringing us more pizza was no biggie. Later, I looked at my computer screen and confirmed my day-long suspicion that my contacts were in the wrong eyes. My Rx for each eye is just different enough that I couldn't be sure until I tried to read the screen and saw double.
So just know that one reason that I haven't been able to fit writing into my routine is that I'm too busy driving off with pizza boxes on my car and mixing up contact lenses. Apparently it takes all of my brain power to achieve even that level of functioning. Or maybe I just don't care that much to get things "right", in which case, writing this blog shouldn't be such a big deal. It shouldn't be a job job.
After all, does this look like someone who takes life seriously?
