I have been putting off writing about my daughter Z for a long time. I don’t know why exactly. Maybe I preferred being seen as a ‘writer’ blogger as opposed to a ‘mommy’ blogger. Yes, shallow, I know. But I think that could be a reason. Another (more justifiable) reason would be that I’m a little weary of writing about my family. I wonder if it’s fair to lay specific characteristic details about them bare for all to read just because it’s my blog.
Damn, I now wish I had an anonymous blog. Just think about it. I would never fall short of post topics. I could happily wax eloquence on the eccentricities of practically everyone I know, myself included, of course. And people would think “Wow, this is interesting stuff.” But instead (shallow person that I am) I bully my friends into reading my blog, as well as publicise new posts through my FB account. In the bargain, I chose not to be this wonderfully mysterious blogger who people stumble upon suddenly and get hooked to. Frankly, I don’t think I’m good enough for the latter to actually happen much. I know because most of my readers are my friends. Or friends of friends. Or my mom. I think I’m depressing myself.
So, as I was saying, I was worried writing about Z’s shenanigans would be like asking her to just hate me once she is old enough to read her mommy’s far-from-anonymous blog. Crappy old age home guaranteed, I thought. But what I was doing was just putting off the inevitable. I can’t continue making myself believe I currently have a life outside my home. And how can one not write about something or someone who consumes one’s thoughts, hopes, dreams, and worries so greatly?
Taking care of Z, listening to her non-stop banter, chasing her around the house with food, stopping her from finding strategically stashed away chocolates, singing songs with her, listening in awe at her rendition of ‘Give me some sunshine’ from 3 Idiots, watching her dance to every kid’s reality dance show on TV, obsessing about how she’ll fit into play school, among other things, is what my whole day is all about. As I type this, she is stripping the pants off her rag doll and applying generous amounts of Johnson’s Baby Powder to the doll’s butt. How can one ignore that, tell me?
So, it really is the easiest thing for me to write about Z. Yep, I think she’s ready for the spotlight now. I think I can manage a decent job of it too, and thus, spare myself the crappy old age home.
