Practicing What I Preach

So, Tyler brought it to my attention that I don't post anymore.

I have a couple of flimsy excuses.

1. I'm busy right now.

2. I've been expending my creativity in ambitious mothering.

I don't think either of these hold water. For one, being busy shouldn't cut off your inspiration, which is the real problem. I have writer's block. Which brings us to the other excuse, which is that all my ideas are being used up. I don't really believe that. Is there a limit to creativity? I sure hope not.

I teach writing, so I know the solution to writer's block. It's to write. I've never actually lived the dictum to write everyday, but I'm going to try to. I have an activity I do in my writing classes called a rush write. The goal is to keep writing for an alloted amount of time and not stop. If I can't think of anything to say, I write I can't think of anything to say over and over until something comes.

Here goes.

Talmage and I went to the zoo today. One of the elephants is pregnant. As I looked at her with her sagging skin, her heaving belly that seemed to sink heavily on her wrinkly knees, I thought about how she was the ultimate vision of pregnancy. I mean can you imagine a better or more accurate simile than I feel like pregnant elephant? And she isn't even a metaphor.

I think I'm going to ask for a baby elephant for Christmas.

A brief look at the high school students attending the zoo today confirmed one thing: short shorts are back.

I can't think of anything to say.

At one of the baby showers before Talmage was born, a neighbor gave me Baby Mozart, one thrilling episode in the Baby Einstein series. I've always felt a little bit silly watching Baby Mozart. I felt like I was one of THOSE mothers, who knows that their child is a genius at T minus 34 weeks, or 6 weeks after gestation and so plays Beethoven to their belly and signs them up for baby yoga classes so they can grow peacefully with their impending intelligence. I felt even sillier when I purchased (of my own volition, mind you) Baby Einstein Language Nursery, a program that accompanied departing toy trains and swirling Mobius strips with nursery rhymes in various languages. I could even hear the implied infomercial that accompanied the program: "I simply placed my 6 month old in front of the screen for four hours a day and she came out speaking Japanese! Konichiwa Baby Einstein!"

"Einstein flunked out of school, you morons!" Is what I wanted to yell at the hand model who methodically removed the color spheres from the toy tower.

But the fact is, when I was taking care of my three month old baby and my 6 week old nephew whose infant excema was as yet untreated, I welcomed the eery purple blobs that dripped seductively across the screen. Talmage was mezmerized. Stockton was mezmerized. I was mezmerized. And The Magic Flute chimed somewhere in the background.

Baby Einstein disappeared from our life when it became apparent that Talmage's interest was waning. Which was a good thing, because I felt guilty introducing my son to TV that young. That is until he saw Toy Story and that love for 2 dimensional entertainment was rekindled. And Pixar? That's something I can get behind.

Talmage watched a show today on the way to the zoo. We went on a trip to Moab a couple of weeks ago and hooked up the portable DVD player in the Camry. Anyone who knows me shouldn't be surprised that the player is still in there. Anyone who knows me shouldn't be surprised that the 64 oz cup purchased at the truck stop in Green River is still in there. Anyway, Talmage wanted to watch a show and I passed back the folder of DVDs. He requested Baby Mozart and I obliged. I had only heard a couple of bars of Eine kleine Nachtmusik when I felt the old righteous (and yes, hypocritical) indignation well up in me.

It only swelled when an older and more consumer minded Talmage said, "Look at that train! I want one of those trains next week!"

Baby Einstein. Toys R' Us's ultimate infomercial.

Well, look at that! Rush writing works.