"If eternity is understood not as endless temporal duration but as timelessness, then he lives eternally who lives in the present." Lutwig Wittgenstein

Some unformulated thoughts:

It’s been 3 weeks since baby W was born.  I’ve got a lot to write, here and otherwise,    

about  his birth, about all of the last several months, and about the wonder of his in-the-  

flesh-existence. I need to write. Much. More. Than. I. Have.

It’s hard to make that happen.

It’s hard to be sure I change my underwear and brush my teeth.

I feel very stuck in my body. I don’t mean this in a negative way. It’s just that this new     

      life is still so connected to this body of mine. And will be, for a while. 
I'm not, in any way, complaining. But I don’t want to forget about the rest of myself.

I have less patience for those around me (ahem, toddler) when I don’t make time to write. 
 
I’m processing a lot, emotionally.  And I’m thinking a lot about everything that makes us who we are; nature, genes, family, surrounding, experiences.

I have strange dreams. Like last night, when I was given a kitten that needed my breast milk.

 I know.  Before I woke up, the kitten went crazy, growling, showing me its nasty teeth, hissing and plain old FRIGHTENING me. It was so bizarre.

Even taking the time to write this post now, I feel a little guilty, like I should be making a sticker chart for my toddler or reading about potty training techniques or returning a phone call, or folding the laundry.      
  
Which brings me back to the need to just fucking do it. If I make the time to write, I’ll be more productive overall. When I bring my mind to writing, I don’t leave the foggy mama body I’m stuck in, but at least I know what day it is. And it’s who I am. Soon enough, I’ll be working again as well, and making time to write will be critical to my survival! SO, I’m going to need to be ok with saying Sorry, no laundry here. Or Sorry, I haven’t_____ but you see, I’m writing like a motherfucker.     

      While my synapses are firing slowly and sleep deprivation is sinking into my stuck-in-body, I’m occasionally floating. So off I go.