momish

My friend Avery is ahead of me on the kid timeline, her kids are just starting college, and I get to see this glimpse into the future. I remember a few years ago when she told me all she wanted was a little apartment in Seattle, she was going to run away and be alone there. I was scandalized. Who could leave their babies?

Now I'm sitting in a car with two arguing kids and one pipsqueak and I'm thinking, I could get out and walk. I could just leave the car, and walk away. I wouldn't go to Seattle, though. I'd go to Missouri. I'd go directly to the middle of a huge green empty pasture, fall over, and look up at the sky. I would stay there for a hundred years. Or until I needed a soda.

So I'm writing this new section of my life, this sequel to "Somebody's Always Hungry." This wanting to be Amish. It's called "Momish." It's about all the things you AREN'T, when you're a mom. Things you want.

Still gathering all the notes, but you heard it first here. Faux farmer moms.

ps. broken finger sucks, thanks for asking. Typing with left index finger as stand in for whole left hand. Index finger demanding a raise. I give index finger the finger. There's your raise.