Version 3.0

by shell

I find myself reading about waffle irons and reality sets in, things have changed. I’ve traded in the city for barefoot and pregnant in florida (barefoot because who really sleeps in shoes? and that is all I did, sleep) and now I watch the contracts and awards coming in and realize I am trading barefoot and pregnant in for supermom. Oh god, supermom. Breastfeeding, homeschooling, design award winning, contract negotiating, housekeeping, husband petting, supermom. I wonder if I can bring my computer with me and keep designing through labor?

Last night I was holding 2 month old Kia and realized that all that didn’t mean very much when all that matters in life was the moment of holding the tiny sleeping santa in my lap while my tiny not-so-sleeping Solaris kicked at him through my belly. He slept through all the chaos as his little arm bounced with the kicks and the Albury christmas party raged on around us. Supermom is fine as long as I don’t miss these moments.

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