Look, blog, all I’m saying is that you’re pressure I don’t need.
I simply can’t be marginally interesting even half the time, let alone daily.
I’m busy with filling out papers and running all over town for physican’s reports and getting freaking painful PPD injections so I can hang at the preschool with my kid until he gets used to things; I have to polish a 25 page article then cut it to a 15-minute talk (good luck with that one, Captain Garrulous); I have to take a 32-page schlock-fest and make into a 40-page example of my best erudition and then into an awesome 25-page article; I have to plan holiday crapola and travel whosiewhatsis; and I have to figure out how to replace at least half of Peanut’s Halloween stash, because today it was simply magnetic, and the kid will notice. He pours out the whole stash on my bed every morning at dawn, with “mommy, you don’t have to get up, but can you help me pick my candy for today” because I stupidly put a two-piece a day limit and now he’s having this crappy candy for breakfast every day and will be until January. At least. Unless he notices the dearth of nougaty and caramely pieces (kind of sounds like an order of nuns) and calls me out, in which case there’s gonna be a serious meeting about how I’m the Mommy and if I’m gonna blog, I need to mainline sugar, else have nothing to say.
Or at least nothing to say so quickly. Or without proofreading.