It seems I have become a cat bed. Little things love to crawl all over me when I try to work at night. My thighs, just above the knees are covered in little scratches. My arms are pathetic. I had to tell my nurse/midwife that No, I seriously am not trying to kill myself, the cats just scratched up my wrists.
I promise I didn't pull down my pants to show her my legs for proof. It's good enough to have a 4 year old with you who vouches that the kitties 'get mommy'. Whew! It's actually a teeny bit serious, I have a history of pregnancy related depression and severe post partum issues. This nurse practioner/midwife/whateversheis saw me through nearly a year of post partum psychosis. I love her to death and she has learned to know that I am honest about my thoughts. Not like that time when I was trying to hide how nuts I really was.
Man, my toe fell asleep. How does one toe do that?
Sometimes I wonder if I'm too personal on here. Potential clients can find me and read through this thing. A week or so ago one found me through this blog, but didn't seem turned off by my weirdness. Maybe I should be happy that I am so searchable. I don't like hiding who I am, it is like a deception to me. I guess I figure that a client should get to know me, if they care about such things, before hiring me.
And if someone doesn't get back to me after seeing this? Oh well, then we weren't meant to work together. If they do, then that shows me they really do care about their quality of work, not some idea of who a writer should be. You know, poring over vellum with a feathered-top quill in a dusty library tower. :-D Ha! To be so lucky.
Lucky, yes'm. I'm lucky to sneak out of the bedroom when the kids get a nap without one chasing me down and wanting me to come back to lie down. The week after next and the 3 days in the hospital will be heaven. Bliss. Utter deliciousness.
Wow. That's sad. Oh well! Look at it like this...I spend all my time in the house, working, chasing after 3 little nut-ball kids, cleaning after 9 people, cooking for all of them, and being mommy/wife/chef/doctor/and so on...the 16th through 19th I get a bed to myself that MOVES up and down, clean sheets I didn't wash, a shower to myself, and food brought TO me that I didn't cook.
Who cares that I had major surgery? Not me, says this little writer. Not me. :-D
2 comments:
I thought I was living the life of Riley after I had my second baby!! I was bummed when they kicked me out of the hospital!!
Thanks for stopping by and commenting on my blog!
No problem, your blog is great!
I am soooo happy to get out of here. I'll miss the kids, but, maybe they'll miss me, too. :-)
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