No I haven't died or fallen off the face of the Earth

No my dear readers you won't have to look for my face on "Without a Trace." I am indeed alive and reasonably well-- though a little confused.

You see a couple of weeks ago, I was given the task of doing the purse Meme, a delightful Meme requiring me to share the ever impressive contents of my purse. Easy. Easy. Easy-- until I got to the "post a photo part" because well my camera happens to be the only thing resting in peace in this household.

But I wanted to be a good blogger. Hell, I wanted to be a "professional blogger." I wanted to be able to blog eight hours a day, five days a week and look like I know what I'm doing. Oh the dreams-- pretty blogger template with pictures and stories updated daily. I could sell T-shirts and give out advice on the side. Of course there would be a book deal and later a blogger talk show where I'd interview Super Mommy, Babaloo and the entire cast of "As the Stomach Turns." Fantasies-- they're only good between midnight and 3 a.m.

Oh pickles I needed that camera. The camera was holding me back. And those people making all that noise-- darnit they had to go. Must they always hit each other? Do their feet really have to be that noisy? I mean is it necessary for me to hear each and every footstep.

AND-- they are always hungry, and they think I should feed them dinner when I'm trying to get my camera to fulfill my dreams. Jimmney Cricket! What am I the maid?

No, I'm the Mom and survey says "One day guilt will take over and I'll remember I'm the Mom and kids have been eating popcorn for the last two days." (CPS: this was an exaggeration. They had cereal-- I think).

OK so one day I woke up and realized the laundry pile had crept down the hall and the refrigerator was having friends over for dinner. If I didn't do something soon, the mold would sprout legs and the frig would take to walking.

But did I do anything. No, I was too stressed so did what I do when things get too stressful--I read blog after blog. Then I realized it was quiet. Now those of you who have children know the sure sign that evil is upon us is a quiet house. It all boils down to one simple equation (silence+ 3kids + shaving cream - razor blades + black cat * brand new tube of expensive mascara / new carpeting (absent father = blogging mother)= three children that look like a the stay puffed marshmallow family with black splotches on their faces and an angry white cat)

Later taht evening, I thought I'd take a bath. Usually the sound of running water is the homing device for my three kids, the cat and the telephone because everyone knows all motherly baths require an audience. Plus, important phone calls only come when you are chin high in bubbles.

But the kids never came. This was weird. I began to worry. Then I heard the screaming. My 2-year-old was wandering through the house. Her arms stretched out like Frankenstein and her lip quivering like the little baby she is.

And so with only bubbles for a dress, I went to her.

"What's the matter, Nik-a-bok?"
"I-I-I can't find you," she said. "You not in the cu-ter room. You not there. Com-com-com- fu-ter you not there."
"I was in the bath," I said.
"I don't like you cu-ter," she said. "I wan chew. I-I-I wan chew-pease. pease Mommy. pease."

And so for the last 12 days, I've forgotten about the camera and decided to go through detox. She has gotten me to herself. We've lost a pink flip flip, visited museums, built a bird house, made lots of brownies and played maid (my version of child labor). It hasn't been easy. My hands have itched with the need to find out what is going on in your worlds.

But I forced myself to take this short break because let's face it blogging is an addiction. I love to read about other people's lives and to connect and to get to "talk" to adults. My husband has been gone for more than a month. I've been stressing big time over Spanish, and I've been working. For me blogging was an escape from all the pressure. Darnit but I do love it.

And so I just took a break. Those of you who have followed this blog for a while know this is a frequent habit. I'm a sucker for guilt. But it is the guilt that keeps me grounded-- and from falling off the Earth. Come back Thursday when I tell the tale of the missing flip-flop.