Whoa. When did this become a mommy blog?
My name is Kelly Baker-Hefley, and this is my blog. I started it in September 2006 to document my ongoing struggles with Nocturnal Sleep Related Eating Disorder (NSRED) and REM Behavorial Disorder (RBD). Though I’m still plagued with these parasomnias, the blog has started straying to other places. I still documented the crazy ongoings of my nighttime self, sleepingKelly, but my writing started to reflect the adventurous of a newly divorced twenty something. But then I got married to my best friend and became a happily unemployed college-educated housewife. And then I somehow convinced him to knock me up only three months into our marriage. (As if any man could resist his wife trying to get him in the sack.) Like many women, I was infatuated with the ethereal dream of pregnancy and didn’t fully understand how much motherhood would consume my life. That’s not to say that I don’t love being a mother. I just didn’t realize that it was a demanding and jealous lover that demands you cut off ties to your other aspects of your life, at least temporarily.
So that’s where I am. This has become a mommy-blog. It wasn’t my goal. It just happened. I’m very happy to be here, but I’m also trying to add non-mommy related content to the blog and to my life. I’m a mommy who’s striving to be more.
Additional things about me that are not necessarily noteworthy: My major was Sociology, which means I’m a progressive Democrat. My minor was Aging Studies. I think old people totally kick ass. Old people think I kick ass too. In fact, if a lonely elderly person is in a 10 mile radius, they flock to me. This is demonstrated in physicians’ offices and grocery stores, especially Wal-Mart. Until I met my second husband, I thought I didn’t want children, but now I’m a proud mom to the most perfect child ever, Cecilia. I love Arkansas. I love everything about it, from the Hogs to Bill Clinton. I need a twelve step program for my Target addiction. I love to cook. I fart a lot and pick my nose while driving. And my husband is better than yours.