When you take a break from blogging, because your kid won’t stop tugging on your sleeve and repeating, “Mommy, can I tell you something?”, you notice some very odd things. Many of us had our creative growth temporarily stunted by the holiday break. It’s a bittersweet ritual. Some days, it seems like a warm and cozy break from the cold. Other days, it just gets weird and funky from a lack of fresh air. I never thought toilet droppings would be included in my story of going stir crazy.
Everyone was sick for the first half of the break. Sure, we ventured out to see Santa with Rudolph’s red nose, rosy cheeks and whiskey breath, just to let Babyface say she wanted a Rocket Ship and “eight other stuff”. Sure, we spent time bonding over holiday movies, hot chocolate and Christmas tunes, but I also let my mind wander to places I just thought would stay out of the toilet.
Babyface has a recent fascination with the shapes, colors and textures of things: cars, trains, food and even Legos. Well, her fascination has transferred to things that go plop and don’t have a fizz, fizz to go along with them. She’s fascinated by poop. Sometimes, there’s a family in the toilet that she sees. Sometimes, she contemplates the texture and color and wonders whether she ate corn or tomatoes the day before. I’m pretty sure Hubs has some influence on her latest discovery. Thank goodness she hasn’t had the inkling to “feel” the texture of her new discovery.
Well, after about the twentieth poop-anatomy discussion, I realized that it wasn’t much different from my own creative thought process. I longed to blog and my mind just naturally plopped there. Evaluating my blogs is not much different, than evaluating sh!t.
Sometimes I write the perfect sh!t with perfect prose and punctuation. Sometimes my sh!t is runny, full of run on sentences and repetitive ooze. Sometimes my sh!t is hard to get out, kind of like a bad day or week of writers block. Sometimes my sh!t is like staring at the dark clouds and looking for creative inspiration. Sometimes my sh!t is short, quick and stinky.
I guess it’s really true, like mother, like daughter. We’re two pee pees in a pod, staring at two poo poos on a porcelain canvas.