- Mom of an about-to-be 1-year-old boy, Jack.
- Wife of the wonderful, witty, snarky and sarcastic, J.
- Part time partner with my dad in a very small engineering business, where I take my son 2-3 times a week so my dad can fawn over his grandchild while I do (in this economy) very little work.
- 32, no wait, 33 years old. Crap, I'm old enough to be forgetting my age already.
Writing is something I've wanted to do for a long time, especially since I've had my son. I've wanted children since I was 24 and after 4 miscarriages and a divorce from my first husband, I've finally become a mom. It was a long road and even so, in the first months after Jack was born, I on several occasions thought, "My god, what have I done?" All of a sudden there was this wonderful beautiful little person whom I loved so much it made me cry. But he needed me ALL THE TIME. I must admit, I was a little panicked about my lack of time to myself in those first months. I mean, I need social interaction as much as the next person, but I have always been one that needed "me" time. Wait, where am I going with this?? Oh yeah, writing...
So, ironically (and yes, I do use that correctly unlike the slew of sports announcers who abuse it as much as they do the word "literally") the birth of my son, which spawned a yearning to write also prevented me from having time to do it. I am finally making good on my promise to J to make a go at writing publicly, lest he win our bet and make me shave my head when I turn 40. This is good, because I'm pretty sure I have a lumpy head under this hair.
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