Some days Mothering is a Van Gogh: look too closely and it's a meaningless blur; stand back, and everything makes sense.
Other days Mothering is an Abstract; or you could say, with an Abstract Mother, anything can happen.
And here's the proof:
While I was abstract (existing in thought but not having a physical or concrete existence) Wade quietly ate cookie after cookie--but only the halves with the lemon filling.
Count them. Eight lemon-less halves of evidence left.
So for today, I would like to share this essay on Motherhood written by Barbara Classen (from Prayers and Peanut Butter).
I know absolutely nothing about being a mother --- nothing at all.