Children & Chocolate and Other Paths to God

I’ve lately been trying to wrap my brain around some creative ideas, but am having a hard time coaxing my vocabulary out of the dark recesses of my brain. From the time I was in grade school I loved to write, and continued right through college, working, marriage, etc.

Then I had children.

I’m know that lots of people who write have children, but for some reason this event seemed to have sucked the life out of that part of my gray matter. It appears that I only have so much blood in my body, and if it’s flowing to my uterus, it’s not making it up to my brain.

Now I’m officially done bearing children (for a variety of darn good reasons), and I’m trying to remember who the heck I was before I turned into this jeans-and-t-shirt-wearing/mini-van driving/can recite dr. seuss but not my phone number/haven’t seen anything but a rated G movie in years/ person.

And not that I want to go backwards, because, let’s face it, most of us are much better people in so many ways once we have children. But there are one or two things, like this writing stuff, that I would like to rekindle.

So I may just break out a dictionary this week and start flipping through it, you know, when I get that quiet five minutes each day for such a luxury.