While talking with a friend shortly after the birth of my second child, I caught myself talking about hobbies in the past tense, as in, “I used to have hobbies, but now I have children instead.”
That was simply unacceptable. Plus, I was spending way too much time tooling around on the interwebs while nursing baby Platypup. I could feel brain matter vanishing.
I used to write all the time as a kid. I switched over to primarily writing music when I decided to major in composition in college, but my writing time in either form took a severe nosedive once Owlet was born. I do a cappella arrangements for groups around the country and also arrange music for my students to play by request and enjoy it, but reworking other people’s stuff is just not the same soul-soother and -invigorator as straight-up creation. Facebook status updates were not cutting it.
Hence the blog.
I am not writing a pigeon-holed blog. Not just a mommy blog. Not just a music blog. Not just a pretentious-late-night-pondering blog.
Speaking of pigeons:
p.s. I’ve decided to protect my future middle schoolers’ tender feelings by nicknaming them. My elder daughter shall be known as Owlet for her big eyes, wise ways, and love of her stuffed owl from my dad. My son is dubbed Platypup, because platypuses are not just cute but frickin hilarious and so is he. My younger daughter is called Cria for her soft baby hair and skin and a propensity toward spitting as an infant.
p.p.s. I am not married to the God of Thunder, but I suggested the name Thor off the top of my head and got what can only be described as lukewarm approval. So it stuck.