metamorphosis?

It’s a gorgeous outside right now. I went outside to talk to my man and sip on my venti, iced, soy, white mocha. I closed my eyes and felt the warm sun shine on my pale skin. I miss that so much, sitting outside, soaking up the sun, it felt so good.
I listened to my husband talk, his voice soothed me. He reassured me everything is going to be ok. He’s so happy I’m working on getting better. He worries about me, but he doesn’t run away and hide. He’s right there, next to me, telling me it will be ok. He is a good man.
I could hear my children playing in the front yard. Their laughter made me smile. I remember those days when I was a kid and everything was so simple and fun. Not a care in the world, except who’s team I would be on when we played games or if Jimmy, the neighborhood hunk, would notice me that day, maybe even smile at me. I miss that childlike innocence.
It’s amazing how sometimes happiness is literally as close as your own backyard, but you just can’t see it because you’re too afraid to open the door and experience it. Once you do, you can’t understand why you have been denying yourself that kind of joy.
The simple things in life, I forgot how important they really are.
I’m so glad I was reminded of them today.

Why can’t I write like that anymore? Not that I think that was great writing, but at least I was able to capture what I was feeling at the moment… Why can’t I seem to express what’s happening in my mind, in my heart, in my life without resorting to writing about the ripping of a fart? Oh yeah…THAT’S WHY. My life has changed completely and I suppose it’s only natural that my writing would reflect that change.
Right?
RIGHT?!
(I wasn’t even able to finish THIS post because “someone” was sitting next to me PUSHING POOP OUT. I only tell you this because I’d hate for you to blame the fact I can’t write anymore on ME.)

12 thoughts on “metamorphosis?

  1. rachel

    Sometimes I wonder what we would do without the ability to comment about how we chewed on poopy fingernails via the blog forum.
    Can you see somebody bringing that up with their real-life acquaintances/friends?

  2. Hed

    You know, I wrote about Steak and BJ day today, because that’s all I had time to do. Right now, I have a two year old on my lap trying to rip each individual hair from my head. I guess I should stop reading blogs and play with her before I’m bald.
    -H

  3. reese

    but see, we get to read instead about pushing poop out. and there is great beauty in that. imagine your life if you could not poop! imagine gabby’s ‘tude if SHE could not poop. let us all praise the poop and how it inspires your muse 😉

  4. robyn

    I look at my old blog posts at ATPTB and wonder “who in the hell was that person?” I can’t even feel like that anymore — much less write like that! (And at times I’m not always sure that’s such a bad thing.)
    Totally understand where you’re coming from (as I have a diaper stew brewing myself over here)…

  5. Tammy

    Hee hee! Actually, as I read the first part of your entry, all I could think was “What the f#@%$? Where is Y? What happened to her?! I was worried that you’d gotten all “growed up” on me.

  6. Mellissa

    You still write about how you feel. I’m sure you recently spoke of how PROUD you were of Gabby’s farts. You capture the essence of fart ripping like no other.

  7. Shaunta

    Hmmm. You’re writing can’t be bad. I’m very discriminating, and I come to your site an embarassing number of times everyday just to see if you’ve written something else.
    Seriously, I’m practically a stalker.
    By the way, I have I told you that your baby is gorgeous. Why do I think she’s so gorgeous? Um…because she looks like MY baby! Everytime I have your site up and one of my big kids or my husband comes in the room they think Gabby with wings is Ruby with wings. They do a double take.

  8. Mariposa

    I like your writing.
    You might not think it’s as expressive as you want it to be, but it is. Right now, you have other things going on, but as time moves on, you will be able to feel and write like you want again.
    Good luck, i know what it feels like to have writer’s constipation.

  9. Beth

    You may not write the way you think you ought to, but you always write what’s true for you and that’s what matters.
    As for someone next to you pushing poop out, my son (4) knows to keep quiet when I’m on the phone, but a coupla weeks ago I was interviewing an entrepreneur on the phone, when my son quietly crept into the bathroom and began grunting and groaning adn basically giving me a play-by-play description of what was coming out. Nice, especially since my computer is just a few feet from the bathroom. I’m sure the guy I was interviewing heard the whole thing. At least he has kids, so he probably understands. ;^)

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