I'm editing this to say it's just come to my attention that the link to the post that I'm responding to in this entry is no longer working. You need to read it to understand what I'm talking about, but until it's back up again (let's hope), the gist was that I kind of "sold out" by becoming a "mommyblogger".
I might try to copy it out of my feedreader and link to it from my own blog, but hopefully it will be back up again later in its original form!
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You guys are in trouble with my hip, single, city-dwelling friend, S.
(Yeah, you!)
You can read about it in her post here, but I’m warning you, it ain’t pretty. (Although I did get a good chuckle out of the part where I’m the queen of the mommyblogging minions. Me, with my double negative Technorati rating! Pshaw! S, you have yet to meet the queens.)
I read the post several times. My reactions in the order they occurred:
- Ouch! Have I been insulted?
- Wah?
- Uncomfortable squirming giving way to an all-out cringefestival.
- Whatever happened to my drum set?
- Oh, yeah, I did totally kick that I-talian dude’s ass!
and finally,
- Thanks, S, and you rock, but I very, very respectfully disagree.
In fact, my disagreement is so respectful, that it’s kind of shy about guest-starring in this post. I had to bribe it with a spa gift card and fruit basket.
So here I am with my respectful disagreement, bowing deeply while trying not to spill my peace tea, and having something to say . . .
“Mommyblogger” is a four letter word.
I don’t think most women bloggers with children who may or may not star in their blogs really think of themselves as such. We just happen to be some of the lucky few who can talk about our job (the mothering gig) in a personal blog without getting fired. If you could freely talk about all the crazy shit that goes down at XYZ corporation and get words of advice, sympathy, encouragement, or sometimes a plain old “Ohmahgah, I’m ROTFL” for writing about it, wouldn’t you?
As a “mommyblogger” (cringe, shudder, squirm), you can dish all you want about your job without the threat of a pink slip!
That’s all I’m doing. I have a new job, mommydom, and I write about it. If I had sent in my resume for this mothering gig, nobody would have even granted me an interview. And I sure as hell wouldn’t have gotten the job.
Yet here I am.
It’s hard to have children without them leaving an indelible imprint on your corporal and ephemeral person, but it doesn’t change your essence. I may be waiting in the supermarket checkout line with a cartload of Hamburger Helper and reading The National Enquirer, but I’m still flipping off the biddy with the accordion file of coupons whose holding up mah damn queue.
I’m not in that imaginary band that never played a real gig anymore, but I’m still drumming in my head. Loudly! When we’re not jamming to our Lithuanian choir CD, the J-dog, V-meister and I rock out to Massive Attack. It’s all cool, as long as I turn down the volume for the occasional swear words, WHICH I TOTALLY DO.
Would I still kick that sorry dude’s 6’4 ass today? Probably not. I’m a little older. And wiser. The osteoporsosis is starting to take its toll.
It’s nice to be a part of a blogging community. In the short few months that I’ve been blogging, I’ve gotten a lot from the women whose blogs I read and who read mine. Some of them are mothers, some of them are not. Some of them blog a lot about their kids, some not as frequently. I’m glad we all have different types of blogs. It would be a boring internet, indeed, if everyone had my silly old self-deprecating brand of humor.
I’ve met people through this blog whom I never would have known otherwise, and my life is richer for it. (I love you guys!!!!! Group hug! Group hug!) And the best part? You don’t even have to be a mother to play along.
This business about selling out?
That’s a bunch of bullshit.
S, I want to introduce you to just a smattering of the kick-ass bloggers I read. Read this stuff first, then call them what you will . . .
Boobs, Injuries & Dr. Pepper
Get in the Car!
Queen of Shake-Shake
Laid Off Dad
Where's my Cape?
Motherhood Uncensored
Where Am I Going and Why Am I in this Handbasket?
Here In Idaho
Marmite Breath
Thailand Chani
Madness, Madness I Say!
Slouching Past 40
I left out about ten thousand. I'll link to you all next time, if I haven't in the past.
And "mommy"bloggers, meet my kick-ass MoFo, smart, funny and really very lovable friend, S. She’ll set you up with some top-of-the line stolen purses if you ask nice.
Peace.
