Or, an hour later. having fed, bathed, and again fed that baby, how does that mamma, now poised with uncorked wine to embark on a"date night" at home with the hubby as our baby sleeps in his infant car seat in the middle of the living room (for what, an hour? two hours? 30 minutes? 15??), how does she forge those eddies of deep thoughts that flow from her sleep-deprived psyche?
It is a rhetorical question. A rambling rhetorical question at that.
You know the answer: those thoughts are shelved for tomorrow. But damn if I don't post anyway, even if it is just to say: life is good. Messy, jam-packed as ever with responsibilities and uncertainties, but good.
Do you remember Ferris Bueller's Day Off? That is how I'm living right now, as I am at this keyboard, posting. Because life really does move too fast; I really must stop and look around.
So I don't get to blog on deep stuff tonight folks, but there'll be a season for that, too.
And as far as seasons go, this is what I know: