The Story of How I Tried to Feel Mommyblogging Ennui
I am having this wee little problem. The problem is that every time I sit down to possibly pound out a post about me, myself, or I, instead I open up bloglines and click on one of the many wonderful blogs I have determined that I.Must.Read.
Liz of Mom-101 has a great post up about mommybloggings. Are some of us writers who also are moms and others of us moms who also are writers? Is there more then one kind of mommyblogger and do the distinctions make the term easier to swallow? Assuming you find the term distasteful, that is. Me, I don't mind the term. Hey, as a mommyblogger I got to touch Andrew Shue, which I consider a full circle moment in my life. That particular circle started in the 90s when I thought only the cool girls watched Melrose Place and then I befriended a cool girl and started watching the show and now here I am, so cool that I am 0 degrees of separation away from MP hottie Andrew Shue. Thank you, mommyblogging.
And HBM of Her Bad Mother writes about what she left behind in San Jose when she flew back to Toronto after BlogHer:
My thoughts exactly, except put into compelling words and easy to read. Thank you, HBM.
My day was of the normal, non-BlogHer variety. I was involved with many details involving sippy cups, making breakfast for two children that only one ate, making lunch for two children that only the other one ate, chatting with flesh-and-blood friends, pondering why it is that children won't share their toys but will readily share their private parts, and nursing a wounded little boy while hoping he doesn't get blood on my white skirt because I hadn't yet taken the photo of What I Wear: Suburban Housewife Edition.
All day long I was a mother who was completely unrecognized. Nobody called me Mom Writes! or squealed when she saw me. BlogHer is over. We've left that behind.
Getting the kids out of the house and to playgroup by 10:00 AM proved difficult now that I must carry a portable potty with me in addition to a diaper bag filled with diapers, spare clothing, snacks, sunscreen; my purse; and a bag of plastic sand toys. At one point I thought to myself how much easier it would be to simply put the kids in front of Dora and me in front of my computer and pretend I have friends because if I get comments then it means I have friends, right?
But I can't forget that as much as I love reading blogs, writing in my blog, and commenting on others's blogs, blogging is not a substitute for real life friendships, despite how warm and strong this community feels. And with that thought in my head, I forced myself to leave the house and drive to the park to meet my playgroup.
I was the only one who showed up.
Sigh.
***
Technorati tags: mommyblogging, motherhood, ennui
Liz of Mom-101 has a great post up about mommybloggings. Are some of us writers who also are moms and others of us moms who also are writers? Is there more then one kind of mommyblogger and do the distinctions make the term easier to swallow? Assuming you find the term distasteful, that is. Me, I don't mind the term. Hey, as a mommyblogger I got to touch Andrew Shue, which I consider a full circle moment in my life. That particular circle started in the 90s when I thought only the cool girls watched Melrose Place and then I befriended a cool girl and started watching the show and now here I am, so cool that I am 0 degrees of separation away from MP hottie Andrew Shue. Thank you, mommyblogging.
And HBM of Her Bad Mother writes about what she left behind in San Jose when she flew back to Toronto after BlogHer:
"The me who felt both quieted and stimulated alone (sans child, sans spouse) in the company of other women, other writers, other mothers who, for a moment, put the activity of motherhood or whateverhood aside and said, now, what about me? What about us?"
My thoughts exactly, except put into compelling words and easy to read. Thank you, HBM.
My day was of the normal, non-BlogHer variety. I was involved with many details involving sippy cups, making breakfast for two children that only one ate, making lunch for two children that only the other one ate, chatting with flesh-and-blood friends, pondering why it is that children won't share their toys but will readily share their private parts, and nursing a wounded little boy while hoping he doesn't get blood on my white skirt because I hadn't yet taken the photo of What I Wear: Suburban Housewife Edition.
All day long I was a mother who was completely unrecognized. Nobody called me Mom Writes! or squealed when she saw me. BlogHer is over. We've left that behind.
Getting the kids out of the house and to playgroup by 10:00 AM proved difficult now that I must carry a portable potty with me in addition to a diaper bag filled with diapers, spare clothing, snacks, sunscreen; my purse; and a bag of plastic sand toys. At one point I thought to myself how much easier it would be to simply put the kids in front of Dora and me in front of my computer and pretend I have friends because if I get comments then it means I have friends, right?
But I can't forget that as much as I love reading blogs, writing in my blog, and commenting on others's blogs, blogging is not a substitute for real life friendships, despite how warm and strong this community feels. And with that thought in my head, I forced myself to leave the house and drive to the park to meet my playgroup.
I was the only one who showed up.
Sigh.
***
Technorati tags: mommyblogging, motherhood, ennui
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