Monday, April 30, 2012
I come to you tonight in a haze of motherhood. Lost somewhere between showing my toddler's stuffed otter how to use the baby poddy four times in twenty minutes (at F's insistence) and feeling too large to actually fit in the half bathroom while getting the door closed, is my sense of individuation.
I am my children.
I am the digestion process: the food, the fullness and the baby potty, all.
I am the books; I am one with the not-yet-verbal.
I am asleep and awake simultaneously. I am both unproductive and reproductive.
I don't think, therefore I am everything.
Which reminds me. Tomorrow, I'd like to be the bed, the computer repair and perhaps the sugar free caramel frappuccino.