Muchness

I fear I’ve lost my muchness.

Although {obviously} I did manage to get out sans babies to see Alice in Wonderland this weekend in all its inspiring aesthetical glory, I feel the wind has gone out of my sails and my mojo has gone the way of the dodo.

I hate to whine {in public} but just two short weeks ago I was just feeling much more muchier -- armed and ready to set off on an adventure in artistic mothering and bohemian vintageness. But today I find myself looking at my craft supplies and vintage stuff as just that – stuff – that is cluttering my house and my life. And I hate that feeling. It’s like my horse has gone lame before I get out of the gate, and my muse is as entangled as my metaphors.

So I’m going to embrace the funk, if you will, and wallow in the overwhelmed womanness just for tonight. I’m going to take the dog for a walk, pour myself a glass of wine, take a hot bath and be the self-indulgent woman I alternately envy and disdain, admire and judge.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll wake up refreshed, relaxed, energetic and ready to be mommy/wife/artist/neighbor/maid/shopkeeper/friend/chef/human-jungle-gym/peacekeeper/voice-of-reason again.

Maybe, amongst the clutter and bubbles

I’ll find my muchness.