Motherhood Uncensored

Every Once in Awhile, Someone Gets it Right

It seems as though a day doesn't got by that I don't get at least one email like this in my inbox.

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Hi!

I love your blog Motherhood Uncensored, or I think that's what it's called and I think that your readers would really like to know about a fantastic contest for this Ridiculously Stupid and Totally Uninteresting Movie or Product cool thing. I don't have anything to offer you -- you know free stuff, money, or actually any incentive whatsoever to post this on your blog, that I have never, in fact, actually read. I'm just spamming bloggers today and you happened to be on my list. If you have any questions, feel free to email me. I have included a ridiculously longass press release below for your perusal.

Sincerely,

Joe PR Person From Hell

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Now look. Don't be all "Oh I wish I got emails like that." Because, guess what. No you don't. I promise. It's not flattering. It's actually bothersome because not only are they wasting their own time, but they think we're so silly that we would just post an announcement about something on our blog about something totally unrelated to anything we EVER write about.

And not even one free thing offer.

So really, what's the incentive? Do my readers really want to know about "Meet the Robinson's?" And if I tell them to go (even though I've never seen it because you didn't even offer me free tickets to go), do you really think my readers are going to run to the theater crying, "Motherhood uncensored told us to come. So it must be good."

Right.

I'm not a free shit whore, but let's get real. Most of the time with these emails, there's not one bit of free shit to be had. I mean at leaset make it tempting. Throw in some KY Jelly or something.

But then there are the smart ones. Those are the ones that read your blog and email you about stuff that you've actually written about. And then they get rewarded.

Learn from your peers, my PR people.

And so, recently I complained about the utter uselessness of the bulb aspirator. And wouldn't you know, a few days later, I had a lovely email from the folks at Nose Frida. A few commenters had actually recommended it so I was anxious to try it. And so the nice man sent me some. A lot of them, to be exact.

And so, the snot sucking addict that I am, I tried it without hesitation. And let me just say, I am Nose Frida's new bitch. It rocks. Seriously, if it was a man, I'd marry him. Yes you still need saline drops but all you do is stick it up to your kid's nose and suck out the boogers through a tube (Don't worry. They don't get anywhere near your mouth people). The harder you suck, the more snot you get. As you might remember, I'm an experienced sucker (heh), so I did well.

No squeezing the bulb, trying to line it up with your kid's tiny nostril, and no 4-hour cleaning sessions.

And so I'm happy to tell everyone about Nose Frida. In fact, I'm on the prowl for kids with runny noses. I have a bona fide Nose Frida addiction. I'd even wear a shirt if they'd send me one. And I'd happily spend $1000 of their money if they sent it to me too (hey, can't hurt right?).

So, kudos to you, smart PR man. You read my blog, you felt my pain, and you filled the void. May others with much money, power, and shoes (preferably size 10 open toe sandals) do the same.

The winners have been chosen!

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My thanks to Self Made Mom and Rookie Mom for honoring me with the Thinking Blogger Award. I wasn't being an ass by not recognizing it. I am honestly just not thinking well these days (no pun, really). Here were my picks. And the always thoughtful (I swear, no pun) Mrs. Chicken, nominated me for the Blogger's Choice Award. I fear Meryl Streep (aka Mir) is kicking all of our asses, but it's well deserved.

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Please visit my sponsors: Baby Dagny and Mama Needs It -- two great mom-owned bizzes that deserve your love!

Wasting Away Again in Blog-aritaville

Somedays I feel like I'm sucked into the vacuum that can sometimes be blogging. I sit around, mindlessly posting about my crotch or my hemarrhoids, reading your posts about your crotch and hemarrhoids (and yours too), and I end up feeling fairly disconnected from my life.

Almost vacant.

It's an escape, no doubt, but it's also become my work. I blog for a job. My job is blogging.

I'm not generally a guilty person, but on days where I'm dealing with sick kids and a tired spirit, my anxiety levels go through the roof and I feel like at any second I could lose control. I'm checking my email constantly, I'm writing posts about nursing bras, bath toys, and blow jobs, and I'm feeling guilty -- like time is flying by and I'm losing memories and moments.

I realize I blogged mostly about the hardships with my first child and little about the joys. I look at my son who is incredibly easy and I think, was my daughter like this or was I just depressed and scared? Was she this bright and smiley? Did I miss all that because I was too pissed, hungry and alone?

The people around me piss me off and I can't stop focusing on it. It's like a bright light that's shining right in my eyes and even the best of sunglasses don't eliminate its burning glow.

But my children. My daughter and son. My joys. They are my complete and utter joys.

I want to hold onto those moments, write them here, and there, and everywhere. I didn't think I'd ever long for that memory of a little face staring at me with no words -- just a coo, a wimper, and a cry. I didn't think those sounds would ever be the music of my spirit -- the food for my soul.

But they are.

I am torn about my life before, the years I spent learning about something I no longer feel connected to, and the guilt I now feel for disconnecting myself from it. I'm not sure it's enough for me to say "I blog about my kids for a living." Or maybe it's that it's okay for me, but not okay for everyone else.

I proudly deposit my checks and pay my car payment with the money I earn writing stories about mothering. I just wish everyone else would think it was just as cool.

And I can't help but wonder. Is this writing or piddling or whatever it is that I'm doing more valuable than this writing?

I spent much of my life convincing researchers and medical professionals that music therapy was valuable beyond what a scientific study could so them. I defined my profession every day, explaining my role in the therapeutic process. I sold myself and I taught students how to sell themselves. But I believed in its inherent value. I was never swayed from the knowledge that music therapy was powerful and effective.

And now, I'm doing the same. I'm trying to convince publishers and editors that blogging is valuable -- that just because I don't write for "bigname" online outlets or have a book deal -- what I say and how I say it is still worthwhile. I'm trying to believe in the inherent value of blogging -- that the memories I write and the stories I tell are worth hearing.

You tell me this is so. And I thank you.

But I must believe that my time spent staring at this bright white screen will not be in vain -- that something will come from this -- that all this will not be a waste.

Try to Remember

Do you remember why you started blogging? You know, way back when you weren't obsessively checking your sitemeter and worrying about the number of comments you got. Seems like so long ago, doesn't it?

It upsets me when I hear folks are thinking about closing their blogs. I'm sad when bloggers decide to close them down for good. And I'm elated when people who left blogging decide to make a come back. Maybe it's because I value this blogging community more than I should. Or maybe it's because it's a community that should be valued more than it is.

Perhaps you think it silly for someone with my "perceived" blogging status to be talking about not caring about stats and comments. But I still blog for the same reasons I started blogging back in November 2005.

I needed to know I wasn't alone. I needed someone to tell me that what I was feeling was okay.

You can call me cliche', that's fine. And maybe you were the strong mother who didn't need any help and just sucked it up and figured it all out. But that wasn't me. I had no idea what the hell I was getting into. My marriage started to fall apart, I missed my job, and I spent many of my days weeping in utter frustration and confusion.

Sure, it's easier this time, even though my living situation is about to get the better of me. Maybe it's because I sort of know what I'm doing now, or I'm not so concerned with how the diaper goes on just so long as it's on. OR maybe it's because I've got an outlet -- a group of men and women that share in my struggles and triumphs.

You're here to laugh when the shit hits the tub, cry when my daughter decides to crib dive, and giggle about the in-laws when I don't think I have any giggle left in me. And you write posts that make me nod my head vigorously, as if you were going through the same thing at the exact same time.

And while that might not make parenting easier, blogging certainly makes my life better.

My blogs. Your blogs. Our blogs.

So, if you have forgotten why you started blogging in the first place, read this post. My perfect post.

And please check out The Blog Exchange today. It's a fantastic topic, with great writers and wonderful posts. I'm quite certain you will not be disappointed.

It's Hip to Be Square or in my case, a Parallelogram

With the emergence of Babble and half a dozen other "hipsta - urban parent" blog outlets, I'm starting to realize that I'm far from cool.

Basically, I'm warm. Luke warm.

At one point in my life, I might have considered myself to be fairly "in-the-know" -- whatever that means exactly. It's such a subjective term and quite frankly if "cool" means anything close to what the mainstream is touting these days, then I'm sort of glad I'm not.

But if it means being funky, different, and downright fan-fucking-tabulous, then oh-how-I-wish to be cool.

At some level, it's hard not to be envious of the fabulous hipsters that write daily on all things supposedly relevant to my life as a parent. Do I care that Boston is the best place to have kids? Not really. Am I excited that PeeWee Herman is making a comeback? Eh. Not so much. But I still read it anyway.

Because let's face it...

Don't we all want to be just a little bit hip in our fairly average suburbia lives?

But as we strive to be the slim jean, ripped shirt, dark-rimmed glasses set that make the bad mom the new good, part of me (and a few other people) [added: okay... since I wrote this... about 14000 other people wrote about this here topic plus some huge Time article] can't help but think it becomes just a little bit tired, fairly exclusive, or perhaps, one dimensional.

Damnit. It's hard to be cool all the time.

And as I read I wonder... Is there no softer side? No room for flashing princess shoes? No shopping at Old Navy? No space for the weepy, overdramatic mother of a growing brood? Is that so totally UNCOOL now?

Or maybe that's what Clubmom and Babycenter are for...

Part of me enjoys the variety of blogs I write, and the various personas they represent. Do I curse and talk about balls for the majority of my day? God. I hope not. And I'm certainly not the uber indy shopper when I'm perusing the clearance racks at Target. Hello. Even Cool Moms do sales.

And so, I think that where I am, in this mix of suburban meets hipster-wanna-be meets child-led parent who just so happens to wear dark-rimmed glasses (at night, that is), is pretty darn cool. Sometimes I don't drink and I don't curse. Sometimes I crush hard on my kids, dress her in floofy dresses, and buy princess pillow cases.

Maybe it's time to let hip be square or whatever other shape you want it to be and let uncool be the new cool.

Motherhood Uncensored. Tragically un-hip and loving every fucking minute of it.

Try to Remember

Do you remember why you started your blog? You know, before you became obsessed with your sitemeter, worried about your blogroll, and focused on the number of comments you got each day?

It seems so long ago, doesn't it?

Perhaps it's silly for me to be talking about this, from whatever perceived blog status I speak to you from, but when it comes down to it, I still blog for the same damn reasons I had when I started this blog back in November 2005.

I needed someone to tell me it was okay. I needed to know I was not alone.

I read about folks who think perhaps it's time to stop blogging. I miss reading folks who did decide it was time (for whatever reasons) to say good-bye. And I rejoice when people who decided it was time to stop blogging return back to it.

We all want to be acknowledged for our stories about parenting and beyond. We want people to read and keep reading. But in the end, is that why I do this? Is that why you do this?

I wish I had known about blogs when I had my daughter -- when I was alone, weeping, and afraid almost every day. Maybe that's not you -- you were a strong mother who knew what you were doing. But that was not me. My marriage was falling apart, my friendships were almost non-existent, and I was struggling to keep my head above water.

In a way, I'm still there. My situation is not easy by any means. But this time is better. And sure, I'm more relaxed, I sort of know what I'm doing, I don't care if his diaper is on backwards or upside down, and I don't need to be the one putting that diaper on. But honestly, it's better because of blogs.

My blogs. Your blogs. Our blogs.

So if you've forgotten why you blog, then read this post. My perfect post.

And make sure to check out The Blog Exchange today. Start at the main site and read some of the fantastic posts by over 40 participants. You won't be disappointed!

It's Almost as Bad as Saying You're a Mom

I ventured out to my alma mater for my first homecoming in 10 years this past weekend. It was weird being on campus again, looking around at all the old buildings and tons of new ones, and enjoying lunch and conversation with old profs and a few classmates.

Most of them know that I had been teaching at a university, and they actually use my scholarly articles and textbooks in their classes.

But then they ask me what I'm doing now.

I've tried to figure out a way to tell people that I'm a mom and I blog, but there's just no easy way of putting it. If they do know what a blog is, then they can't really fathom you making any money off of it. And if they don't know what a blog is (and then you tell them what it is), well, they can't really fathom you making any money off of it.

I've even tried to tell people I'm a writer. Which I am. Sort of kinda. On the internet.

But then they ask me if I've been published, and what kind of pieces I write, and I don't really know what to say.

"Well, I wrote a post about shaving my vagina the other week. And today I have a post up about the time my daughter pooped in the tub. Oh that was a good one!"

Um. Not so much...

Either they laugh, roll their eyes, or do both at the same time. And in both cases, it's never a "wow, that's really interesting and awesome!" More like a "you really get paid to do that and don't you miss teaching?" accompanied by a "you gave up teaching at a college to be a mom and write about poopy?" look. Even trying to explain Cool Mom Picks (which is more like a business but still doesn't seem to make sense to people) is ridiculous.

"We find cool handmade stuff and write funny reviews and give things away and we're helping moms who make stuff get exposure."

Huh?

In utter desperation I've tried to add (er, brag) that I talked with Gloria Steinem the other day, and that I was on the Rolonda Show the other week, but all anyone ever hears is "lalalalaBLOGlalalaMOMlalalaBLOGlalalaMOM" which is almost as interesting as listening to Charlie Brown's mother talk over a loudspeaker.

"But it's kind of funny" and "damnit, people like me!"

Hi. I'm pathetic. Nice to meet you.

Someone asked me why I don't write about my work very much. And to be honest, aside from the few posts about the ridiculous songs my students have written, there's not much most folks can relate with when it comes to music therapy. And to be even more honest, it's just not worth reading about nor is it why I started blogging.

But really, the truth is that it's just not who I am anymore.

Sure. I'd love to teach and supervise students again. But when it comes down to it, I'd rather be writing about my hemorrhoids and my clueless husband. I'd rather people know me for the funny book about motherhood. Or the post about how moms are really secret agents. Or because I was an amazing mother to my children (ha. haha. hahaha).

Because in doing that, I enter the realm of my authentic self - my real life - who I am. And sharing that is not only therapeutic, but it brings meaning to my life like nothing else.

It's just icing on the cake that I end up getting paid.

And so, maybe I've dropped lower on the totem pole of "life" being a mom AND a blogger. And maybe I'll never finish "the book" or get into "that magazine." And I certainly will not be winning mother of the year. But what I do (in mothering and blogging) brings meaning and value to my existence.

Sounds pretty damn great to me.

I Have Cracked the Blog Top Sites Code

A few months ago, I read a few posts surrounding the mystery that we call "Blog Top Sites." Apparently that little number that fluctuates between what I think are the coordinates to the Russian Space Station and the number of times I farted yesterday wreaks much havoc in the minds of mommybloggers.

Granted, it sucks to see yourself listed as #72. But seriously, if you ever take about 2 seconds to scan through the thing, you realize that it's a total sham. OR, it's a system set up by the Communists to program us into submission.

Wait, are there even still Communists? And if so, do they even have computers?

You have to question it when you see, for example, my numbers last week: 1,867,287 unique hits this reset.

YEAH. And I'm pregnant with Tom Cruise's quadruplets.

C'mon people. I am nowhere near 1 million hits. In fact, I'm nowhere near 1 million anything. Caloric intake on Sunday? My husband's last sperm count? Times I've said FUCK on this blog? Maybe. But that's about it.

And did you see who's in the lead right now? Currently it's a blog that hasn't been updated since last month.

If that doesn't clue you in to the insanity, then I don't know what will.

But no worries. If you still hate being #56, check out the secret formula they use to determine the rankings. I'm no mathematical genius here, but believe me, it didn't take that long to figure it out.

X = Your mother's age x the number of times you had sex last month + the probability that Suri Cruise is real divided by my bra size + 1 (don't forget the 1 - it's important).

Simple.

Now go have more sex. For all you know, it might raise your Blog Top Sites number.

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Before you run off and have sex all day or try to figure out my bra size, check out my fear post up at the Huffington Post. I'm up with HBM and a few other lovely ladies.

I've Officially Entered Blogging Nerd-dom

Yes. That is a digital voice recorder. You know. Because it takes so much energy to pull out my notebook and write down a funny note about the lady I just saw use a check to pay for her decaf coffee at the book store.

I was sort of hoping that they came in watch form - so at least I'd look sort of "secret spy meets Knight Rider." But alas, no such luck.

I figure I'm going to need to be able to fit something into my nursing bra for the long late nights when I have lots to say and nary a free hand to write it down.

We All Can't Be Bon Jovi. And That's Okay.

Everyone has the potential to make music. At least, that's what I teach my students. And as music therapists who work with folks in extremely low functioning states, it's true. It might just be the chime of a triangle or a tap on a drum, but it's still music.

But many people believe they don't have the potential for music or they believe their music serves a specific function that's limited to bedtime rituals and daily showers. They don't expect to cut a CD at any point in their lifetime. And they're okay with that.

Others are amazingly accomplished musicians, who instead of filling the concert halls with their music, choose to save it for their friends and family, or maybe smaller venues, like clubs or churches. And they're okay with that.

Some folks are superstars, at least in their genre. But pop-indie-underground-grunge-punk isn't everyone's cup of tea. In fact, some folks might not even consider that to be music. And they're okay with that.

And then you have the universal musicians. The ones that while all folks may not love, their greatness is still acknowledged. Maybe they're uber talented, or just shit lucky, but we all know who they are. We play their cds and sing-a-long to their songs on the radio. And we admire them from afar.

And so, we're all musicians. We all have our songs. And we all sing them differently - some better than others. And we gravitate towards those people whose songs speak to us - be it through the meaningful lyrics, fantastic rhythm, or soothing melodies. Or because it's oddly familiar to us. Or just because we like it.

So because only a few folks or thousands of people hear your music, does it make it less or more important than someone else's? Certainly not, because the value in the music is inherent to the maker. And just because you think your music is of worth doesn't necessarily mean someone else will. I'm okay with that.

It's hard to know what people will like to listen to. Some days it just depends on our mood or what we can find in our car cd case. We're dedicated fans of a few groups, some of which folks would not find the least bit interesting. The other groups speak to a whole shit load of people, not just me.

The mass marketed music - what's popular or playing on top 40 radio - may not be the best out there. Or maybe it is, but we've decided not to like it because of how it looks or the message that it sends. It's too flashy, so "trying too hard" when really, it's not that bad.

Blogging is like music, in a way. We're all writers at one level or another, just trying to share our stories with whatever voice we were given. And like the best musicians, the best bloggers write what they feel from the inside, and don't care who hears it.

Our blogs might appeal to the masses, or maybe just a few random folks. And maybe we roll our eyes and say "Who would read that shit?" just like "Who would listen to that crap?" Or maybe we say "I can write just as good as her" just like we might say "I can sing just as good as she does."

But if we believe in the craft of blogging like we believe in the value of art, then the value is derived from the creator. And the music you make that no one hears is still a song. And the piece that you write that no one reads is still a post.

And when we compose our art in the best way that we can, we are writers.

All of us. Every single one.

I'll Be the Tall Half-Asian in the Back

I've been trying to contain my excitement about Blogher, and considering you haven't seen me write one peep about it since here, I've been doing pretty well. Plus, like Mom-101 duly noted, I know about 90% of you may not be going and might possibly feel somewhat eye-rolling-ish about it.

But please. Humor me.

So now, it's within my reach - hundreds of my favorite bloggers all in one hotel. And while the prospect of actually meeting the likes of Alice, Amalah, Sweetney, and Asha, and schmoozing with various folks from Blogher, Clubmom, and who knows where else does not scare me one bit, I'm still a little worried.

Because a part of me thinks that no one will know who I am.

Isn't it every blogger's worst nightmare?

Dude, who's that tall girl walking around with Mom-101? Do you think Liz knows she's been followed  for the last 3 hours? Maybe someone should give her a sign or something - like "tall scary brunette - 3 o' clock..."

Or possibly worse...

You guys. Did you see that tall Asian chick over there - she's handing out Motherhood Uncensored stickers. Um. Hello. Do you think she did something to Kristen?

Or totally mortifying...

Hey. I've been waiting to have my room cleaned all day. Could you make sure to make the bed and take out that trash? My roommate Kristen is supposed to get here and I don't want her to know I tested out both beds before she got here. Okay. Thanks.

And so, I've decided to let everyone know how to find me. I figure I need some type of identifying look - a shirt, some pants, and shoes that will let you know THAT IS MOTHERHOOD UNCENSORED.

I mean, you have to admit that even if you're not going to Blogher, you've still thought about what people look like, don't you?

If I see a sassy college professor type in cute leather flats, a bouncy bob, and a city-chic suit with a sleep-deprived daze, I'll know it's Her Bad Mother. I won't even need to hear one Canadian word from her mouth.

If I see a rocker chick wearing Donna Karan jeans, a black leather jacket, and heels that could kill, um, hello. It's Izzy.

And based on their stories and pictures, a lovely Ohioan in Renaissance garb, a totally naked woman with a painted on bikini (literally painted on), a secret agent in a trench coat and a sexy one-piece bathing suit, an intellectual triple fisting martinis, and a crazy red-blonde riding a bull?

I've got your number.

Okay. I'm kidding. But haven't we all thought about what people are going to look like and how they are going to be based on their blog?

So, to clear up any thoughts about how to pick me out of the crowd, here's what I'll be wearing:

This shirt and These jeans

Yep. Surprise!

So while all you happy drunkards are whooping it up at the bar, I'll be slamming maternitinis, enjoying my drunk-by-association buzz, and acting as "drunk-blogger" escort from party to party to party.

I'll be hard to miss. Look for the *15-week (yes, can you believe that one?) pregnant 6-foot tall half-Asian in the back handing out stickers with Carrie Bradshaw.

And I can't wait to meet you too!

*If you are curious as to why I haven't said anything, read this.

I Had a Crazy Dream Last Night

I was on stage - bright lights blinding me from every angle. I was all alone, staring at hordes of audience members.

Some folks looked like they had just been dragged in off the street. "Come watch this show and we'll give you $20 and some free toilet paper" I could hear the stage manager call, sequestering them through the doorway and into the mustard yellow fold down seats that are about as comfortable as a metal bleacher. Other folks waved their front row tickets. "We're huge Motherhood Uncensored fans. She's amazing. Hilarious. Controversial. Love. her."

I stood proudly in my sexy jeans and tank top combination - topped off with flouncy curls and shoes that cost an entire car payment. The floor was newly waxed and rather slippery, but I masterfully moved towards center stage with a strut that should have earned me millions.

And then I started reading. From my blog. Emphasizing my t's and p's for extra drama. Pointing to the disinterested audience members as if to say - "This is mine for the taking."

For the most part, they all nodded with me, laughing at my jokes, and clapping during my strategically placed pregnant pauses. They heard my words and got it. THEY GOT ME.

"She says what we think" I heard someone say. "Damn, I couldn't have said it better" said another. "Hilarity in one sexy package" (oh wait, that's me in my head).

But then.

UUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRNNNNNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

The buzzer went off over my head and I looked over.

David Hasselhoff had just pressed his strike button.

"I guess it's funny. But really, it's kind of offensive. Not that I have any idea what you're talking about anyway. I didn't really listen to much. I think you said something about Baywatch and Big Boobs. And that's enough to piss me off and press my hot button. See ya!"

Most of the audience booed. I swear I heard a few claps, but they were drowned out by my own self-doubt.

Maybe I'm not so funny. Maybe people don't hear what I'm saying. Is it that hard to figure out?

And then I stopped, thought for a millisecond, and realized...

Hello! It's David Hasselhoff I'm talking about here. What the fuck does he know anyway? Just last week he was talking into his watch. And besides, he was too busy fixing his hair (chest hair, that is) that he didn't even hear half of what I had to say anyway.

So screw him.

We're All Synched Up Like High School Cheerleaders on the Rag

I didn't consider myself a mom blogger when I first started. And in fact, I didn't read ANY mom blogs until Izzy came to visit me. And then I was like. "Cool. Blogger with kids. I dig it."

But then I realized. It's a club. Ah, screw that. A huge movement.

It seems like there's an unwritten bond between mom bloggers. Can you feel it? I mean, we've pretty much taken over the blogosphere. Hello. We're a force to be reckoned with.

People ask me how I got so much traffic. And I'm like "Dude. I blog and I have kids. I'm a mom blogger now." Welcome to the not-so-secret society. What? Don't want to have kids? You might want to consider it. Ups your stats FOR SURE.

For the most part, it feels like we're a relatively supportive group. There are definitely different circles of mom bloggers, some of which I'm just learning about. However, there's one thing that seems to tie MANY of us together.

Were we all having sex at the same freaking time because it seems like all the bloggy children were born in June or July?

I mean, honestly. We're all women, we're all moms, and we were all getting laid at the exact same time. Nice.

So, will you please humor me? Who has kids with June or July birthdays? I know of a few already (like me, Tracey, Non-Linear Girl, Izzy, Melissa...) but I can't list them all off the top of my head.

And apparently, Mom-101 and I were doing it at almost exactly same time, just a year apart.

Squeeeeee.

Why Do You Comment?

I admit that my commenting has been extremely subpar these days. I took a break from it on my vacation and I've been slow to get back to it. And while I read about 65 blogs, plus writing almost the same (okay, I'm exaggerating, but you get my point), it's getting to be a little overwhelming.

Then Izzy's post got me thinking. You know. People read and they comment. Then they expect you to come back and do the same - with the hopes that you get hooked on them, add them to your blogroll, and run off together to the Cayman Islands. Heh. But then, they either don't come back, or they come back and comment once. And you realize. Maybe they're not that into me.

It sucks, but you get over it. Or do you?

So, do you stop reading them altogether? I mean, did you just read their blog just because you wanted them to come back to read yours? And because they don't read yours, you won't read theirs?

Hey. I get it. You want some readers and so you leave a comment. It's how I find new blogs - through clicking back in my comments. And I have done and still do the same at other blogs. However, it seems like it's bad etiquette if you don't click back and leave a comment - like interweb eyes start a-rolling. And you hear the "getting to big for your britches" type sentiments.

So, why do you comment? I mean. What's your motivation? Does every post you read speak to you enough that you need to say something, or are you motivated by something else? Like empathy (I like comments so maybe they do too), potential readership (maybe they'll click back if I comment), or potential hits (maybe the other commenters will peruse the comments and click to me).

Would you rather have someone read you a lot and not comment much ala lurker-chic, or someone who reads you based on clickbacks and your comments, and just comments on your blog to get you to come back?

Are comments really what blogging is about? Are they essential to your blogging existence?

C'mon. Spill the beans.

I'm Still Me

I had to laugh the other day when I was talking with my not-yet-blogging bff on the phone (I know, remember those things?) about one of my posts. Basically, I was talking about some of the great comments and she said, "Well, I used to read your comments until you started getting like 50!!"

If you haven't noticed, I have. On a regular basis, I am shocked at the number of readers and commenters that regularly visit me. There are days when I feel like I might be wearing out my welcome, with new gigs at Dot-moms, mamazine, and various other ventures. But, apparently, 18 months of near isolation with a baby can create a veritable writing monster. When all I thought I was capable (or most days, incapable) of was bouncing my daughter to sleep with one foot while changing tv channels with the other, it turns out that I have a lot to say and a rather funny way of saying it (well, at least I like to think so).

Believe me, I did my fair share of reading, commenting, and sharing the love, but people have been very kind to me - reading regularly, linking to my posts, and sending people my direction. I feel reassured that maybe I'm not really an outsider, but rather, I was just lost and couldn't find my way back home. And while I still don't have any IRL friends (within a reasonable driving radius) that I can share the craziness that is life as a mother, I have a renewed spirit and a new outlook on life. Quite frankly, I haven't felt this good about myself in a long time.

I'm motivated to get dressed, take a shower, and brush my hair. I desire MORE from my existence than the health and happiness of others around me. I am nurturing myself and in doing that, I know I'm a better mother, spouse, and friend. I may be a little bigger, wider, and flabbier, but damnit, I don't give a shit. I have some great new duds (thanks to Izzy), awesome blogpals, and an electronic ear cleaner *ahem*.

So if you think I've changed due to my increased readership, you're right. I mean, I still run to sitemeter, click back on visitors (even those who don't comment), and rush to my computer to see who has commented (and what they've said). And I still try hard to write stuff that not only makes other people think, laugh, or both, but that does the same thing for me as well. But now I write as a celebration of finding something that I'm not sure I ever knew was in me - a confidence, a peace, and a very good place to be.

Now, lest you think I've gone all sappy, let me remind you that until people are spamming your blog to get hits, commenting on how cute your child is in 102 different ways, or telling you that you are a big crybaby with a nasty red koolaid stain on your shirt, then you're just another mom blog. And, if that's the category people lump me in, it's perfectly okay with me because I'm 30 now (well, in about 24 hours). So don't fuck with me.

Blog Pizazz

You'd think that after writing a 150 page thesis and blogging on a way more than daily basis for 6 months now, I'd be a pro at maximizing the keyboard capabilities and cool features... Or what I like to call "blog pizazz." However, on most days, I feel like I just let my daughter click on the "bold/italics/underline" bar and go from there. I mean, there has to be some rhyme and reason to using "s over italics, or bold over CAPS, right? So, blogging pals, enlighten me.

First up, it's the simple dilemma: "Quotations marks" OR italics. It's quite obvious to me that if you are actually quoting someone, you use quotes. Duh. Granted, you always have the Joey impersonators that like to use quotes just because they think they're "cool." (Like that. Heh.). But, what about when you are using slang? OR implementing a referral to specific word? OR using when using a "sound":

Saying the word "bulbous-headed" is like having mouth sex. Yum.

Or you just do this?

Saying the word bulbous-headed is like having mouth sex. Yum.

Now onto the more complicated run-on adjective that I think I may have perfected. Take for example the following:

She looked at me in a "are-you-a-freaking-lunatic-or-did-I-just-take-too-much-cough-medicine" kind of way.

Is that okay? Or should it be this:

...are-you-a-freaking-lunatic-or-did...

Or, should it be this:

"...are-you-a-freaking-lunatic-or-did..."

Still with me? Good. So, when do you use bold or CAPS? My problem is that bolded words are also my links, so I tend to use them sparingly. But however, does one emphasize something more than the other?

WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?

or What the hell is that?

or What.the.hell.is.that?

HA! The dreaded periods. I still haven't figured out those puppies yet.

And finally, let's talk parentheses. For real. When do you use them? Like are we using them for the inside-the-head voices? (I'm pretty sure everyone thinks I'm a lunatic right now). Or do I need to use italics and the 'ses? (And if they don't then I think I may be driving myself crazy). Or is it just whenever we want to add stuff to our sentences and we don't want to make them run-ons (like this one right here)?

Is it me? Am I crazy to obsess over this stuff? Seriously people. I.need.a.life. Or is it I NEED A LIFE.

Ack.

Now go read my post over at Mommybloggers. Are you sick of following me around yet? Are you? C'mon. It's a good one. You'll get at least a mild chuckle or if you're HBM, I'm thinking perhaps a decent laugh.

The Little Blog Women: Quotable Lucinda, Witty Liz, Intelligent HBM and Random Mrs. Fortune

Loosely inspired by Chase's participation in the nerdy cool Lost Blogs deal where she blogged as Amelia Earhart, I have decided to attempt to blog like some of my favorite blog pals (aka the Little Blog Women - Hello L.M. Alcott fans, anyone?). Granted, people seem to like my style, but it's always nice to have a change and perhaps I can tweak my writing and gain more readers. Knowing my luck however, I'll probably lose some, but I'm not going to think about that.

So, my first thought was to emulate the Dialoggablogga Master, Lucinda. Seriously, the girl can post 14 pages of pure, hilarious dialogue.

"Is that a thong you're wearing?"

"No, I like to call it 'butt-floss'"

"Okay, but wouldn't you throw the floss away when you're done - especially if it was touching your ass?"

"Well, no, not really, because it's a thong. Who throws away a thong?"

"Right, um, not you, I gather."

-- Problem is, I really have no interesting dialogue with anyone but myself - see above - (and that's just a little to scary to post - and wouldn't it all have to be ONE long paragraph?) or my 21 month old (and you all know how that would go - think painful, bleeding ears, rhythmic rocking, and humming of Stars and Stripes Forever...).  If I did have a funny conversation, I could probably only remember about 4 lines and then I'd need to pull out a notepad and pen OR my voice recorder, which would probably kill the entire thing. So, I'll leave that funny shit to Lucinda. --

Then, I thought that I need more sounds and self-talking. While I do feel as though my readers really get what I'm saying, there's nothing like a "urgh" or "feh" to make them really get it. Or, the [turning corner, running quickly with head up ass] thoughts that add that little "something." Well, there's no one like Mom-101 when it comes to blog "sounds" and "self-banter." Seriously, aside from her mastery of the "beh-feh-meh" triple combo,  she might have the best "ack/double ack" placement on the internet.

I'm not quite sure if that comment was supposed to be insulting. Ack. Or if I was supposed to take it as a back-handed compliment. Double ack. [Pretty for a New Yorker... - isn't that a name of a Woody Allen movie?]. Either way, the woman had a hump on her back that was no match for even an Arabian Camel and I'm pretty sure I saw her spit halfway across Manhattan. Feh.

-- Sadly, even my impression doesn't make sense. I have a total lack of "sound placement and self-talk intuition." And, I have no idea how exactly to spell the damn sounds. Like I've used "pfffftttt," but isn't that what a fart sounds like? and, are they italicized or quoted? How does she know all this? However, I can strategically place a damn good muthafucking expletive. So, I'll just stick with that. If it ain't broke, don't fix it, right?--

Or perhaps I need to use a lot of huge words and insert various cute pictures of my daughter. It's funny, interesting, and educational. Like Her Bad Mother, I'm a professor. I can use the DAMN BIG WORDS DAMNITALLTOHELL.

Hitherto my readers, I offer you tidings from the land of whence forsaken bulbous-headed Lilliputians came forth and dragged me tossing and traversing into a place so darkened by pain and sorrow that I can only creep through to a higher plateau of warmth, depth, and majesty.

Is my magnanimous moment distracted by such utter sweetness?

--But alas, while I may know big words, I have no idea how to use them to form actual sentences like my dear HBM does, so I'll just stick to various expletives and witty 12-point scrabble words. Plus, her daughter looks way cuter with a big pile of bubbles on her head. I promise.--

And finally, I considered just posting about totally random shit that absolutely no one in the entire universe would ever think of, but yet, I do and I make it so damn funny that on occasion people might actually pee themselves laughing. You know, like Mrs. Fortune.

I've often pondered whether street signs could possibly be code words for the Witness Protection Programs. I mean, they have to keep track of them somehow, so maybe it's through street names.

Do you ever wonder if mad cow disease can be caught by women? Crazed pregnant women who could, in theory, eat an entire box of McDonald's fish sandwiches and not feel bad.

I'm seriously considering getting my belly button pierced. I've got to find something to distract away from the stretch marks and oh, the large belly still housing a baby.

-- But, let's face it. I just can't sell the random and totally hilarious posts as well as she can.--

So, while I admire these great bloggers, and many others whom I have yet to humor with my piss-poor impressions (Izzy, you're on my list, and ps I love your new site, and pss we love our CMP logo, and psss I'm so glad you're going blogher. hehe.), I like to think that my little formula of "sarcasm, cynicism, and a no more mrs. nice mom approach to the mom blog" works. Maybe not for everyone, but just enough to make me feel like people like me. And damnit. That's all that matters. Bah.

Okay, so did you like my impressions? Well, even if you didn't, go here and sign up for the email newsletter. Tell them I sent you. Why? Because if I refer 25 people, and I'm one of the first five, then I get a free ipod shuffle. And I like free stuff. Particularly that. I don't have one. I'm not cool. I want to be cool on the plane ride to Arizona next weekend, for my 30th birthday in 3 weeks, and my trip to Blogher. You get the picture. Oh,  and you can do all this too (refer people, that is). Today I got children's book recommendations from them - not bad.

The Evolution of a Blogger

There was a time not so long ago where this newly crowned Miss Popular [reference now removed but I appreciate the original sentiment] was just a wee babe in the arms of the blogosphere. And while I still have my moments of toddling around and speaking in a language only a few people understand, I feel as though I’ve grown – as a writer, blogger, and mother.

As I read old and new blogs, I can see their stages of blog development, be it blogfant or teenblogger, and I smile – not only because I remember being in that same place myself, but also because I imagine what the future holds. With that said, I’ve developed a somewhat amorphous, yet reasonably accurate developmental model of the blogger.

Newborn: Dressed in nothing but a simple blogger or typepad template, the  newborn blog is raw and untouched. No ads, rings, or even blogrolls to complicate matters. Hell. What is a blogroll? Just innocent posts about simple things – unsure if they’re funny, unsure who will read them. Uncertainty lurks. Any comments (if they are enabled) are quickly answered. It’s a proverbial outcry of all things pent-up – gestation period unknown.

Toddler: Becoming more aware of its surroundings, the toddling blog features more focused posts. Topics abound with better direction. A sense of style and preference emerges. Perhaps they’ve joined a blog ring or two, visited some other blogs, and made some blog friends. There’s not a huge amount of interactive blogging happening – just a few errant “I loved that piece” kind of comments – parallel existence. Maybe a few BFFBlogs are formed. People are reading or watching – so performance is required. It’s not just about me anymore, but about what people want to hear about me.

Teenager: The rebellious teen blogger doesn’t give a shit about who’s reading anymore. They blog about what’s on their mind – sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t. They try on some fancy clothes, perhaps become a bit promiscuous and over-confident. They’ve established friendships – found groups in which they feel they belong. There’s interaction and exchange of ideas, but still a shaky sense of self-worth. A need for attention. A desire to be liked. Overzealous, over the top, and rough around the edges.

Adult: Blog adulthood is like a big pair of comfy slippers. Sure you get dressed up to go out now and then, but you know that you are not perfect and there are going to be days when you don’t feel like putting out. Your readers know that – they get a sense that you are comfortable with who you are. It’s hard, however, to make new friends and meet new blogs. Maybe it’s a motivation problem or because you feel as though you’ve arrived in a place that’s home. In either case, you’re happy where you are – and while you know every now and then, you’ll need a little bloglift, you’re okay with how you turned out.

I imagine these stages can be milestones reached in a developmental succession, or perhaps they are lifepoints that we move between depending on our mood or current life situations. On some days, I still care about what other people think – I pull out my sexy mini-skirt and fishnet combo and try to entice a passer-by. On other days, I really don’t care and I just need a forum to vent. I admit that perhaps I’m a little afraid of “comfy.” I guess I equate it, at some level, with complacency. And a complacent blogger is one that doesn’t get read.

So blog friends of new and old, where are you and where do you hope to be?

Blog Strategery

The topic of blogging has been hot on my mind these days. I was hit hard when Kyra decided to take a break - it got me thinking a lot about why I blog, how I blog, and well, all things blogging. There are days when I feel like my blog pals are real. I go to grab the phone to call them up and I realize, I don't have their number - and they are not really my actual friends. There are other days when I'm overwhelmed by amazing posts NOT written by me, and I wonder why the hell anyone reads my blog and what the point is in my blogging.

I will say I've found a second home on the internet, and with new projects bursting at the seams, I feel as though my life as taken a turn for the better. I'm certain that for most people, blogging is a nice little hobby that fuels them, and gives them a place to vent. For me, I think it's gone past that in a sense that it has pulled me up to a place where I can see the person I used to be - and it lets me laugh, out loud, like I haven't done in a very long tim.

With that being said, I have read a lot of blogs as of late and while I am not a prime example of blog perfection, I think I've got a nice little thing going. I also know that while not everyone writes to get reads, most people like it if someone stops by, likes what they see, and leaves a comment. But, in order for people to get reads and comments, dare I say they may want to consider a little planning in their posting. So, today, I am here to provide a short lesson in BLOG STRATEGERY.

1. Use paragraphs. It doesn't take much extra effort to double space after you've completed a major thought. And if you are really only talking about ONE thing, just close your eyes and point your finger at the screen -chances are it will do your writing good to insert a paragraph there.

2. Keep your posts a decent length. Short, sweet, and funny is always a good combo. If you have to do something really long, either make it 2 parts, OR do what Jenn does, and make your entries clickable so if people really want to read something long, they have a choice. I know I write long ones and generally, I do try not to do that.

3. Break up long posts with pictures. They don't have to be YOUR own pictures. Find some damn shots on the internet and put them in your post.

4. Make sure your font and background color are a differents color. Hello. If you want people to read your posts, um, they have to be visible to someone other than the Bionic Man.

5. Enable your comments. Not everyone has blogger. If you want people to comment, you have to let people have the chance to do so. You can still moderate them, or if you are really busy, have someone else do it for you.

6. Post at most TWO times a day. I have found, in my own humble, overzealous blogging experience, that people usually don't scroll too far down. So, if you have a good one - or something you want people to read, don't post over it. Save it for tomorrow.

7. You don't have to write doozies every day. Sometimes a post that asks people to discuss crocs can be just as (or even more) entertaining as your long as four-page TV Wedding story.

8. Send people elsewhere. If you have found a post, or blog that you like, tell people in a post. While some people peruse blogrolls, it's helpful to see it within a post. Help out a fellow blogger for crissakes.

9. Come out of lurking mode every now and then. I don't think commenting is ever required. But, it's not something you have to be afraid of nor do you have to do it all the time. It is nice, however, to read the words of people reading your blog and to know what their thoughts are on a certain topic.

10. Never judge, lest you be judged. Believe me, you do not want bad blog karma.

*What's your blog strategery?*

If you want a really good blog strategery post, check out Jayne's explanation of the four blog agreements.

--

And please welcome my renter Meagan. She's on my blogroll, and as a previous renter at her lovely place, I have to say she has a great place with lots of good stuff going on. I highly recommend stopping by for a visit.

X + Y + Z = My Blogroll

I guess I was feeling a little nostalgic this evening, and I was reminiscing about when I first read some of my blogrolled blogs. I started out reading the blogroll of my friend Socrates. That's how I found Jayne, Stella, Roo, Krista, Dawn, Kyra, and eventually Nancy and TB. Then I thought about all the folks that kindly visited me, through various rings and my rapid commenting campaign. How did Mel and I meet? Was it Izzy that visited me first? How the hell did I end up in GGC Heaven? Thank God Mom-101, Cynical Dad,  Mrs. Fortune stopped over to say hello.

There are other bloggers that lurked for awhile and I outed them via my lovely typepad stat tracker. I think that's how I met Jaime, Kristina, and a few others that I can't think of right now. Others came from who knows where and kept coming back - and I appreciated their readership and felt a self-imposed obligation to return the favor. It just so happened that I ended up enjoying their work as well.

Now that I read blogs through bloglines, I don't get a chance to look through my blogroll that often. I know that for a lot of people, their blogroll doesn't represent who they actually read. Perhaps some of them they read on a regular basis, but I imagine some are courtesy additions, friends, and other pals they've met along the way. For others, it seems their blogroll is unmoving, regardless of who they are reading on a regular basis. It's a permanent fixture on their blog and they don't like to add anyone in. 

I'm not sure what my formula is in terms of what blogs I like and how I decide who I'd like to take out on another date. My blogroll represents a wide variety of men and women from many different walks of life - including culture, religion, and experiences. There are some that I visited quite often and needed time to decide if they were the right fit, while others seemed to match perfectly with how I was feeling that day and they got an immediate spot.  In some cases, people were kind enough to blogroll me and I thought it a courtesy to give them the same lovely gift. Now that I have a larger readership - perhaps I am in a position to give back what I know others gave to me. I may not read them as much as I'd like, but I still find them interesting and enjoyable.

Regardless of how much we say blogging is for US, there is, at some level, a desire to be acknowledged by others - through their reading and commenting on a regular basis. While we are just writing our stories, the desire to tickle someone's fancy or touch someone's heart is present. I know it may not be possible for us to do that each and every time we write an entry, but there is a hope, be it big or small, that someone will like what we have written, maybe come back, leave a comment, or even blogroll us. Or, maybe they might mention us in their link love or in other similar type posts.

I know the blog world isn't REAL LIFE - but there is the component of acceptance and approval that is unescapable. I admit to checking daily hits and anxiously awaiting comments. Perhaps it's due to a lack of thanks and approval in my own life or maybe that's just the kind of person that I am. Since becoming a mother and leaving my job, appreciation and thanks come less and less. And for me, the sight of my blog on someone's blogroll gives me a little tingle inside. Like for one moment, I did something well and somebody actually noticed. And sometimes, I feel as though I might have the ability to do the same for someone else - and while I may not read their blog religiously, they touched me at one time or another, in some way or another, and I felt the need to pay it back (or forward...).

So, I'm curious. What's your blogroll formula?

I'm Just Not That Kind of Blog

I'm not sure how you got here, or how long you plan on staying. I used to be pretty good with first impressions. My cynical views on life and motherhood coupled with a little stinging sarcasm made me pretty intriguing. When I popped up into the blogosphere, eveyday was like a great first date. I had well-prepared, perfectly-coiffed entries, sharing quirky takes on typical mommy shit - teething, pooping, and cooch couture. People liked it and came back - everyone likes a pretty face with something reasonably intelligent and funny to say. At least that's what I told myself.

Then I got tired of looking like all the other blogs out there, working hard, pushing the internet pavement, and decided I needed to spruce myself up. Maybe it's my penchant for the pseudo-goth-punk look, or the need for a little 80s-esque bright glossy lipschmackers that led me to how I look right now. Either way, I couldn't afford a stylist - so I did what I could, with a little bit of help, and I felt like I looked a little more attractive. Perhaps my look coupled with my words would be enough to reach out and grab even the pickiest ADHD blog.

Other blogs seemed to like my new look, and it didn't turn them off from reading, so I figured my changes had done me good. Publicists are pretty pricy these days - the best I could do was to read other blogs and hope that people would come back and visit, take a look at me, listen to a few things I had to say, and want a second date. I joined a few dating services, with the hopes of going out on a few more dates - perhaps I could meet a couple interesting blogs that wouldn't necessarily be interested in me at first glance - me the mommy blog of the slightly different variety.

First dates are kind of rocky. You never really know what to wear - and blogosphere dating is even worse, cause you just don't know when you are going out with who. I'm not really one to make judgments on a first date. Blogs are nervous - many times worried about what other people are going to think. You have to give a blog time to settle in and get more comfy until you decide if you want to take it out again. I can't always have my best shit on - because you realize that a blog with no shit and no bla every now and then, isn't being a real blog. There are days when I just want to wear my blog pajamas and talk about nothing. And then there are other days when I have a few minutes to get all snazzed up and I have a lot of good shit to say. Maybe if I had a staff of assistants and blog stylists helping me maintain a fabulous blogimage I might be able to keep things up a little better. But alas, I am just a blog, and I'd rather focus all that energy on something else.

So, if you think that whenever you come here to visit or take me out a date that I'm going to be dressed to the nines covered in roses and lace, you're at the wrong place. I'm happy to go out with you and let you get to know me. Hell, I'll even let you have a few clicks here and there. If you're dating other blogs, I totally understand - I'm not asking for monogamy here - and I'm no prude - I do put out (and it's damn good). We all get horny, and you may get lucky. And really, it's more times than not (many more times) that you are going to leave here VERY satisfied and desiring more. A LOT MORE. And if it doesn't work out, no hard feelings. While I like to think I appeal to the masses, I'm pretty grounded and I know I'm not going to be everyone's cup of tea. This is who I am and I like it.

But, if you think I'm going to put out on the first date, OR if you think that everytime you come for a visit you are going to get some sugar, you're at the wrong place. Because even though I do my best to look the part and give you something good to read, I'm just not that kind of blog.

Share the Love... And Kiss Some Ass While You're At It Awards

Oh c'mon. If you've read my blog for a little while, then you know how I feel about the whole blog clique thing. Let me preface this by saying that I am not against blog awards, the kind, well-meaning woman who decided to take on this Spread the Love Award thing, or the nominees. I am bothered, however, by the list of finalists. Go click on the link and tell me if you see anything of note.

Now, granted there are finalists that I do not associate with the blogs-everyone-reads-and-therefore-they-need-no-more-laud. And fine, YOU think they are fabulous. I've read them and they are impressive at one time or another. I'm not the bitter "Ally-Sheedy-Goth-Punk-Who-Hates-Molly-Ringwald-Popular-Girl" ala Breakfast Club bitch. BUT, I don't think they need to be finalists in almost every category.

Several of my blogrolled pals made the initial cut, and my mother credits girls made the the final cut. And, I went over there and voted for them because they are REALLY great blogs and deserve to be read and recognized. But, here's the thing. If tons of people read your blog, then tons of people are going to vote for you - and in my opinion, that doesn't make for very fair voting. Dare I say that it reminds me of HOMECOMING/PROM QUEEN? How many voters really go over there and READ every single blog on that list? Hell, I didn't. How can I? You can't base the greatness of a blog on one post. Granted, I have had a few doozies here myself that even I can barely believe I wrote (I'm very modest, as well), and many of my pals have some that keep me laughing, crying, or thinking for DAYS. I voted for the people I knew (because they ROCK OUT), and if there were a few that seemed interesting, I popped over to check them out.

And please, I'm not sublimating my bitterness of winning either of those titles since I never went to high school (I'll blog on THAT ONE later). Do not accuse me of being bitter for not getting nominated, because I've been kind enough to receive much love from many people who have stopped by, enjoyed what they've seen, and decided to come back for more. I practically have an orgasm anytime someone comments - and well, when Izzy nominated me CHBM Member of the week, I nearly died and went to heaven. But really, having people read, connect, and commiserate with me is reward enough. Seriously.

So, I am all about Spreading the Love (as you all well know). If I had known about the damn awards earlier, I would have nominated some folks. I'm not shy about commenting or about putting blogs that I enjoy on my blogroll (speaking of which, you should check out my new ones over there - Lisa, MrsFortune, Kristina, Mom-101 - and old ones too!). I just think that the love needs to be spread a bit further out to those who really need and deserve it. Don't kiss an ass already covered in smooches. Find another ass, a just as nice one with perhaps less kisses already upon it, and give it a little lovin' - and if you don't like it, don't kiss it. Okay, now I'm slightly offput by my own way-too-indepth use of the ass analogy - so I'll stop now and hope that you get my meaning.

PS: The contest is shaping up fabulously. I can't wait to read more entries. The meme has taken off even better, and I love reading all the new posts. I am trying to keep track of everyone, so please make sure you let me know if you do it. Click here to see who's done it so far.

PSS: This is for Kristina in honor of her daughter Samantha who arrived and left us way too early. This is the kind of love to spread today.