Jesus Tapdancing Christ.
Apparently, you pop out a kid and miss a few days' worth of sleep while also racking up some massive cabin fever on account of the newborn and the snowstorm we had a few days ago, and suddenly you just don't feel like blogging anymore and you get all mopey and baby-bluey and even start thinking about shutting down your blog because what's the point? You've been blogging for years and years and the blog, apart from a few wonderful and loyal readers, still doesn't register on the radar and it can't even buy you chewing gum in a developing nation.
But then things suddenly start getting easier –as they do– and then Chris Brown beat up Rihanna (THAT IKE TURNER S.O.B.! RIHANNA, RUN WHILE YOU STILL CAN!) and then I've been getting to know this new little guy and hearing from lovely people and notoriously NOT hearing from people, and I've been noticing how life is so very different and yet almost exactly the same when you lose almost 20 lbs in a crazily short period of time and gain a son.
So anyway, I thought it was appropriate to break the silence around here a little bit and shake off the drapes and all that good stuff. Thank you to those of you who've hung about and left comments and perhaps have just been silently wondering where I've been.
I've just been here, pondering many things and thinking that one of the best things about a new baby is the sense of wonder and humility it seems to bring out in so many people. Whenever I've gone out with little Don Meow snuggly against my body, it's been so very sweet to see people's happy expressions whenever they realize there is a baby inside the sling I'm wearing (typical sample question: "Is that a baby in there?") and hear some of their wistful memories of their own children or baby relations, and their awe at the baby's size (sample comment: "I can't believe they were ever so little!").
I wish I could stop that fuzzy, delighted scene and leave it there so all that may come to this blog should read it and be glad and think, "Aww! Babies!" and then go about their day.
Alas, a side effect of all this baby and sleep-deprivation business is that my misanthropic vein has been amped up, and I just can't help wondering about those who do not say anything.
I can't help but notice them as one would notice the sudden absence of sirens during a calm night and wonder what's wrong with the neighborhood: it's something that is easy to leave unnoticed, but when it captures your imagination it makes you wonder and it bugs you.
I wonder about the woman working at the children's store who didn't even think to ask what every single person who has seen me walking around with a sling that squeaks has asked me for the past two weeks or so. I mean, if you have no child curiosity, why work at a children's store– for torture's sake?
I wonder about the acquaintance who professes to love children but strangely stopped calling a week and a half before my due date, and when she met the baby she didn't even want to come close.
I wonder about those whose upper lips snarl ever so slightly when they see a foot poking out or, conversely, who don't even think about watching where they are going and clumsily walk into the pregnant woman/woman with the baby in the sling.
Finally, I wonder why I should even care about anyone who is less than genuine with me these days. Because genuine feels good and right and time ebbs away far too quickly to focus on petty things.
In like a lion this year, even if a little late.