For those of you who tune in regularly, you no doubt noticed that the name of this blog has changed.
But the blog itself has not.
My original intention of writing from five to six o’clock each morning, setting down a concrete meditation before the ruckus rose around me, was a really great goal. I loved the idea. But then the ruckus started rising at 5:30.
And as the days became weeks and then months, I regularly managed to 1. fail at the a.m. meditation thing and 2. write about superhero underpants.
Superhero underpants speak to me. Although I don’t wear them myself, I spend a lot of time with them, and not always under the most favorable circumstances.
Even Gbot, who is not yet fully potty trained, senses the power in them. I think everyone could benefit from something that makes them feel braver, stronger, taller, and more batlike or spidery than they are. There’s a special kind of confidence that comes from knowing that Batman’s got your backside.
And then there’s this angle: if motherhood were a piece of clothing, it wouldn’t be a Chanel gown or even a pair of stretchy jeans. It would superhero underpants: working behind the scenes, 24/7, supporting and protecting, vanquishing messes small and large.
In addition, there’s that pesky compulsion of mine to save things (see “Saving the World, One Stick of Secret at a Time.”) There’s that part of me that thinks I can save the day by writing it down and, literally, saving the day. Not as impressive as sending Mongul back into outer space, but hey, that’s already been done, right?
Who’s got your backside….And how do you save the day?