Dirty Little Secrets

To write or to snuggle. The grand struggle of all writer mamas.

Today I was going to confess all my dirty little secrets.

Step into my little blog space here and use it like a type of confessional, unloading all of the ways I have failed in life. As a mother, wife, writer, friend, feminist.  I am all of these things and not particularly great at any of them. I wanted to try to elaborate on all of these things that haunt me day to day. To discuss all of the things I let slip as each day finds a way to get away from me. Lay it in front of me to find some master plan to victory, self discovery and a release of guilt. Say 10 "Hail Marys" and an "Amen," or whatever it is folks do after a confessional, I'm sorry to say I'm naïve about such things as I've only seen them in the movies.

Instead I took a nap.

Not intentionally mind you. I meant to just lay my head down with the little miss to comfort her to nap herself. Gulping down a bottle nestled close to me with one hand down my shirt and on my boob, the standard snuggle position for the two of us. I was listening to her "gulp, gulp, exhale, inhale" (repeat) rhythmic ways and then before I knew it, I reopened my eyes and an hour had passed.

Just like that.

I could sit her and ruminate on the irony of it all. Maybe wag a pointed finger at my subconscious for it's self destructive ways.
Or, I could just call it how it is. I was a tired mama. Up early after a restless night to take Connor to his Occupational Therapy appointment and just plain pooped. Sometimes coffee isn't a cure all for what ails you. The hours catch up to you and your body tells you to slow down. So instead of catching up on laundry and minding my deadlines.

I took a nap.