(I wonder how many loyal readers I just lost as a result of that paragraph.)
(Not to suggest I have hoards of loyal readers.)
(In fact, if you are a Cranky Pumpkin loyal reader, and we are not related by blood or marriage, you should probably have your head examined.)
Over the years, I have learned to knit, crochet, embroider, sew, cross stitch, decoupage, bake, cook and play the piano. I've gardened, walked, jogged, bicycled, lifted weights and played on a law firm softball team. I've played tennis, quit tennis, played tennis, quit tennis, etc. etc. Man, I have played a lot of tennis! And how could I forget my racquetball phase in college, which was soon squashed by the squash phase. I even owned a squash racquet! And holy shit, I nearly forgot about the ice skating lessons I took as a college freshman. That was fun (mostly because the instructors were hot members of the ice hockey team.)
I could continue, but this is getting tedious. And if I continue, I'll have to talk about skiing, and I need about six or seven years of therapy before I can do that.
(Excuse me while I take a moment to lie down in the fetal position and return my skiing memories to their emotional vault. There, they are nicely buried again beneath some traumatizing memories from my cotillion lessons.)
Anyway, I enjoyed my time in the dark room and behind the pottery wheel, but after years of searching, I have discovered the best hobby in the world: cuddling and rocking my sleeping baby. I have held many sleeping babies before, but my baby is the best cuddler and my baby makes the sweetest coos on her sleep. So there!
I suppose, technically, cuddling my sleeping baby is more of a pastime than a hobby. But since this activity has supplanted all my other hobbies, lets just call it a hobby and not argue semantics, okay?
I wonder how long I will get to partake in this, my favorite hobby. Will Pippa still be able to nap on me when she's a toddler? Or will she decide next week that she naps best in her crib? I don't know, so that's why I am sitting here now, with a wedgie, uncomfortably full bladder, and shirt that is damp with spit up, because the baby is napping in my arms and this is therefore the best place to be. It's not like my knitting needles are going to go to college someday.
