My life frequently feels like a circus. And I don’t mean the graceful, awe-inspiring Cirque du Soleil variety. I mean 3 rings. Loud volume. Lots of activity. Me with megaphone.
The irony of this analogy is that I loathe the circus, to put it mildly. It has nothing to do with carnival games or funnel cake, neither of which I have a particular aversion to, and everything to do with enslaved animals and clowns, both of which qualify as Very Bad Things in my book. I digress…
The chaos of my life revolves around my preschooler daughter, 2 dogs (one large, one small), 2 cats (one surly, one affable) and my very understanding, so-easy-going-its-occasionally-annoying husband.
Holding onto shreds of our sanity and senses of humor are crucial to survival. We laugh a lot, sometimes maniacally.
Given all that is going on in my life (work, kid, pets, book, etc., etc…), why on earth would I want to undertake writing a blog, especially when I live in a place that does not even have a fast internet connection?
The answer is simple: life is funny and writing about it is cathartic.
I know you have stories like mine. I know they are funny…at least later. After you’ve cleaned up the latest wreckage and have had a glass of wine. So let’s laugh together.
And don’t go looking for my kid at the circus. She may very well be the one child in her class who has been spared, I mean, deprived such a privilege. Unless of course you count the Big Top environment at home…