….having someone hold your hair while you barf. It’s an odd thing of parenting. Any residual squeamishness you might have had as a child, or even as a 20-something, goes right out the window when it comes to your kids. Spitup when they’re babies? After getting doused the first time or two, it’s no big deal. Poop under your fingernails? Eh, unplesant, but not the insta-vomit response it might have gotten when I was an angsty teen. Vomit? Ah yes. My daughter has the 12 hour vomitorama today. It’s amazing the bright orange color carrots get once they’ve had a quick bath in HCL, isn’t it? I’ve been barfed on (not just near, but on) about three times since midnight. Do I care? Nah, not really. It smells, sure, but this is my little girl. She can sit on my lap and barf for an hour, as long as she feels better doing it. As a parent, even if I were inclined to, it would be really bad form for me to jump up and down and go *ick* *ick* *ick*. That’s the kind of thing your kids remember *forever*, and not in a good way.
Archive for People
Coffee Shops and Black Berets
I think I finally understand the attraction of hanging out in coffee shops to write. Which probably sounds inordinately stupid, One of my writing teachers informed us on day ONE of the class that is he ever caught us in one of the coffee shops on campus bitching about writer’s block, he would boot us from the class forthwith.
You’re not there to talk to anyone usually, so it drives your focus inward, like when you’re trying to do your Lit homework during your Geology lecture. I suspect if you’re normally a wallflower, this effect is magnified by a great degree. Actually I suspect this technique would work well in any situation where you’re supposed to be doing something else. For example, when I’m waiting for my kids to finish up swimming class at the gym, I can either work (on freelance art or writing) or go jog. Hmmmmm. You can guess which one I usually end up doing. It’s like blogging when I’m supposed to be grading papers for class…
