I hate the term "mommy blogger," which is too bad, because I actually like reading just about all of them. But I loathe the title. Just doesn't capture the whole of me or my writing at all. I'm more of a "Erma Bombeck on acid" blogger, a "tipsy Gladys Kravitz" blogger, maybe, and "mommy blogger" just doesn't capture my rich inner world.
Admit it. A lot of people see "mommy" in your Twitter handle or blog profile and can't click away fast enough. Why? Because of the box "mommy" can put you in. You might as well say "Blogging about poop consistency and play dates" as attractive as "mommy" sounds. I have a theory about this phenomenon: there are not enough mommies brave enough to really disrobe on the internet.
Wait. What? Settle down! I'm talking about authenticity and the hairy ovaries you must have in order to write with your outside matching the inside, a topic that often came up in the counseling office. Keeping it reals. How do you dare to peek out from behind the mask? The internet is full of people pretending to be something they're not (in my case, funny, but I digress), including mommies that are upbeat, spouting motivational quotes, and virtually hugging one another.
Lucky for you, there is a dark, smarmy underbelly to mommydom, and I am she. I invite you to join me on the next challenge as I transition to a writing-at-home-mother: blogging authentically about the joys of parenting, sure, yet also authentically chronicling the challenges of the whole of this mommy. The light and dark sides of the parenting coin, sure. But also about mommy as woman, wife, daughter, playmate, citizen, mammal, friend, consumer of ridiculous amounts of popular culture, metal music connoisseur (no, really!). Finding The Voice. It's 11 am. Do you know where your Voice really is?
