Dear Kid,

Labor Day is all about celebrating the workers in our society. Which—depending on how you look at things—is pretty much everyone.

Today I want to talk about a labor of love: writing DearKidLoveMom.com.

Sometimes people ask how I write a blog every day. Today I shall attempt to answer that question with something other than “um…well, I don’t really know.”

Sometimes blogs just appear, fully written, just needing to be typed out.

Often, I write them in my head, while walking the dog, driving to work, or at the gym, trying out sentences and rewriting them as necessary.

Sometimes it’s harder. I stare at the blank screen, willing words to appear. I can pretty much always manage to get “Dear Kid” written down. The rest of the words, not so much.

Sometimes it feels like I have a good idea. One short paragraph later, I hit delete. It’s the modern equivalent of ripping the paper out of the typewriter and crumpling it up. (Remind me to explain to you what a typewriter is.)

Some days I write about what’s going on in my life. Some days I write about what’s going weird in the world. Some days I write about what went on in the world a zillion years ago. Some days I make up what should be going on in the world.

People have asked why I have a Post-It note holder in my car. The answer is because some days, this is how you write a blog.

Happy Labor Day!

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Some days writing a blog is easy. Words fly into the computer at light speed and land with the grace of a gazelle in the right order.

Some days writing a blog is more difficult. Words stumble around like a drunken baby giraffe before collapsing in a more or less understandable (albeit graceless) order.

And some days writing a blog is basically impossible. As I stare into the Pit of Words, billions of letters (not all of them from the same language) stare back in unrecognizable order, mocking me, making obscene gestures at the deadline, and showering my screen with despair.

Which means that writing a blog is exactly like studying for finals (as long as by “exactly” you mean not at all).

Guess which category today’s blog falls into?

If you like, you can also guess how many blogs I’ve started only to discover that they either don’t go anywhere or they go someplace highly unsavory. (A blog about migraines seemed like a good idea when I started it….)

I’d like to blame it on my chipped nail polish. But not even my twisted brain can figure out a way to make that logic work (suggestions welcome).

Do you know the proper way to deal with chipped nail polish? You take all your nail polish off and repaint your nails. With lots of drying time.

Do you know what I’m doing? Not that.

I’m painting in the chips, hoping that Dad won’t notice the smell of nail polish and that I don’t smudge them while I type. Probably zero. Of both.

Yet hope springs eternail (sic).

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Today I have no topic,
There’s nothing left to say.
But if I dare go post-less
You’ll fuss at me all day.

I thought of writing limericks
I thought of writing prose
I thought of talking puppy
But rejected all of those.

I considered telling stories
Of you as a little boy
Of Legos and of fire trucks
And other boy-type toy(s).

I thought of other stories
But decided not to try
It might not make you happy
And I don’t want you to cry.

So instead I’ll say good morning,
And hope your day is great(er)
Study hard and party smart
And text your mama later.

Love, Mom