Humbling Hearsay

Yes, I was multi-tasking.  Baby was cradled in my left arm, chewing on a very safe key-chain-thing.  On my right, trusty Laptop was open, feeding me that nutritious morning mix of news and Facebook updates and tweets (yes, I joined! follow me!). Husband was in the kitchen feeding Toddler her equally balanced meal of chocolate milk and peanut butter. Well, apparently, Toddler came into the living room to tell me something or show me something or just say hi.  I don't know because I neither saw her nor heard her.

Well, she returned to Husband and reported (and remember this is hearsay-via-Husband):

Daddy, Daddy! Mommy is soooo busy.  She can't hear me!

When Husband told me this, I snapped Laptop shut and got defensive.  She did not come to talk to me. Right? Right?

Wrong.

Then, presumably to make me feel like an even more delinquent mom, Toddler took Husband to play in her room. Amidst the towers of toys, she found her own toy laptop. She popped a squat on the carpet and pried open the plastic, held up her little hand, and said to Husband: Daddy, I'm very busy on my puter.  I can't talk to you now!

Great.  Not only am I setting an excellent example, but I am instilling lovely anti-social behavior in my little girl.

But then, in the trademark and torturing throes of doubt and insecurity and guilt, I felt a fierce flash of optimism and then partook in a very un-me moment of looking on the bright side. Sure, zoning out one's progeny is not exactly commendable behavior, but it is my ability to zone out and focus that allows me to write. When I am in "the zone" it doesn't matter whether there is music playing or cars honking or dogs fighting (or, apparently, a Toddler talking). And I am a mom and a writer.  And sometimes motherhood and career might clash.  Like, say, on a random Thursday morning. Right? Right?

And then something else made me smile: I imagined sassy little Toddler becoming the world's first baby blogger. Sitting behind her melon-colored computer, brow furrowed with Mom-like concentration, sharing her pint-sized stories about toilet training and tumbling at the playground.  Oh, and being ignored by Mom.