This might sound odd coming from a blogger, but I don’t much care for fame.

Clearly I am not a shy flower, since you are reading my thoughts right now. You have on occasion seen a photo of me. But I bet you had no idea how utterly famous I am. Not only do I have a rock star dog that has groupies on every block and a kid for whom nation stood by the screens waiting to see the first official photo of his new haircut, but I am indeed bona fide celebrity.

I receive awards from fellow bloggers (thank you Rachel, Janice, C&C and crazy stalker that keeps trying to give me a bronze medal), wonderful spam comments saying that Tolstoy could learn a thing or two about writing from me ( from Venus who was clearly moved by my Wordless Wednesday photo) and tweets from many eggs suggesting I join their exclusive iPad giveaway party. It is sometimes overwhelming, but I deal with it the best I can.

My son has caught onto this and realized I might be leaving to join Dancing With the Stars very soon. The 12 waking hours that we spend together within a 5 feet perimeter are simply not enough. I have been summoned often to remain at his bedside until he drifts to sleep. If I am to conduct any adult conversation, be it the checkout lady, neighbor or god forbid his own father Little J promptly says “Moooooommmmy, I got something very important to tell you”. He even interrupted the state trooper this morning who pulled me over. In case you were wondering I was not speeding, trying to get away from paparazzi. Officer just wanted my autograph but came up with some bogus tail light not working story. Clearly I cannot confirm his allegations, since I have to step on the break in order to see if the light comes on. Clever these troopers I tell you!

Anyhow, I tried to cope because he is my only son, apple of my eye and quite possibly future President of United States. But when I went to take my three point seven minute shower the other day and had my four year old standing on the other side of it telling me “something very important” I had to put my foot down. For a day or two it looked promising. I conducted a two minute conversation with husband in the car while Little J was sitting in his seat quietly. I spoke on the phone with a client without having to simultaneously build a train track and I even drank my coffee luke warm!

What followed was the infamous indoor playground play date. To my son’s credit he not once interrupted me while I gossiped with his friend’s mom. But he had to go pee. 14 times in 71 minutes. And he preformed every single time! I believe he took lessons from the dog on how to conserve for marking purposes.

Naturally being the concerned parent I googled his symptoms. Ruling out diabetes he has a well know condition common in children that is caused by stress. Or as my grandma would call it: He is spoiled and way too smart for his age.

I am trying to deal with it the best I can, thank you. I found some comfort confiding in my friend at the barn about how hard it is to be most wanted yesterday. My horse did not appreciate being left alone in the cross ties in the mean time. He called out for me. Pretty sure the second time he neighed he said “I got something very important to tell you”. I did not give birth to him, so I chose to ignore him. And then he peed…