That’s not my name

I tend to get squeamish when I see blood, animals being manhandled in any way and actors getting pummeled on screen. Oh, and also when I am labelled a “mommy blogger”.

See, I have been writing for eight years now. This blog existed way before my body nurtured a baby and then kicked him out of his watery home. I wrote when I was going through career ennui, angsty breakups and wedding preparations. I started taking pictures when I earned enough money to travel and posted them on the blog. In my mind, I am not a mom blogger but a writer who happens to be a mom.

A writer whose life happens to be revolving around her child these days.

I know, I know, it sounds sad. It’s almost as if my life has been overtaken by this not-so-little eating/pooping machine. It’s true and yet not true at the same time.

It’s true in a way because I am having a ball of a time watching my child grow and develop. His every skill, his every milestone are observed by us with much amazement and humility, and we do whatever we can in our capacity to nurture his interests and skills. As a full-time working mom, I like to have as much time as I can with him since the better part of his day is spent with the caregivers. This effectively leaves me with very small pockets of time to indulge in me-activities.

But that doesn’t mean that I am not doing stuff for me. I just don’t write about it. Well, I am too tired to blog every other day, for starters. And because I am so stuck up about having nice photos on the blog, I only post pictures that I have post-processed and that takes time.

I could write about my work. I’m handling two core subjects for the kids and I am enjoying it.
I could write about the cafes that we have been checking out. Henry Congressional, Selfish Gene, The Pigeonhole, Chye Seng Huat Hardware, Strangers’ Reunion etc.
I could write about my driving exploits. I recently went up against a bus and, erm, lost.
I could write about the concerts that we have attended. Snow Patrol was fabulous and I am in love with Ingrid Michaelson.
I could write about this little blogging project that I am embarking on but haven’t got the energy to keep going at it.

I guess what I am trying to say is that I don’t want to be one of those people who write about what I did and ate. This is not a diary. And I am honestly trying not to let the little man run this blog. I want to write about my thoughts and experiences but man, am I too busy/tired to pen those words. And so, the blog remains a bit empty.

Really, I am trying my best.

I was going through my photo archives while preparing for the Photography module that I will be teaching and was struck by how nice some of them actually are (some, on the other hand, should have gone straight into the trash!). Taking a second look at them made me appreciate them all over again, and made me miss shooting.

We are off to Sydney next week and I am going to be lugging my 60D along. I don’t how I am going to juggle baby wearing, a diaper bag AND my reliable mule of a camera but I am going to try. Hopefully, that trip will kickstart my inspiration and get those creative juices going again.