I must admit...being a mom to this bourgie babe has made me look at myself in the mirror on a few occasions and ask myself:
1. Did I just sing that corny ass song?
2. Did I just scream at a child who may not clearly understand English?
3. Why did I allow her to rip up my new magazine that I have not read yet? Am I just that desperate for silence?
4. Am I just as childlike as the child?
Whatever my motivations may be, motherhood has changed the way I interact with other kids and people. Its kind of tough listening to a young 20 something talk about how tough it is and BLAH BLAH BLAH as I roll my eyes like a bitchy school counselor. Motherhood has made me self-absorbed...convinced that yeah, Oprah is right...Motherhood is the hardest job in the world. Yeah, she should know...
The little one has been a delight and half over the last month as she provides endless entertainment with her new found freedom. She wants to feed herself, bathe herself, brush her hair, run into the street, dive across couches, and break out into spontaneous dance moves. She has mastered the art of the evil eye. She wags her finger at people as much as I use my hands to talk. She's a grouch when tired at night, and perky as a spring chicken in the morning. She rises before the clock hits 7am.
Me and the hubby have found it necessary to give each other breaks. He vamped to Michigan for a week to hang with the fellas and I scuttled to Memphis in the smallest rental car ever to do the Beale Street Music Festival with my good friend Ash. We enjoyed The Barkays, The Roots, & George Clinton and the P-Funk All-Stars.
George Clinton was definitely the highlight. They might as well sprayed us down with cocaine and let us loose to the street. It had to have been the wildest show I've ever been to...a hedonistic explosion of comic proportions. A grown ass man in a diaper who will blow your mind on the electric guitar; a young, virile brother in shaggy fur chaps, shaggy fur trench with matching hat gyrating and doing handstands and stripper moves carrying a sign that says "F&%# George"; and the man who embodies the "Hollywood funk movement", according to George, who they like to call the Doo Doo Man. George did not disappoint as we endured it all in the rain, wind, and the heavy cloud of weed smoke.
Watch me and Ashley get free without the worry of kids:
