I blog, therefore I am

I have been blogging in one form or another since 2000.  You can see evidence of my earlier attempts here.  I do not consider myself a Mommy Blogger.  I am a mother who blogs, yes, but I am not a Mommy Blogger.  Sure, I write a lot about motherhood, but I am not a Mommy Blogger.  I am a blogger who happens to be a mother.  Got it?

I don't read Mommy Bloggers, for the most part.  I read blogs about parenting and motherhood-related issues like Blacktating and Your (Wo)Man in Washington.  There are others I follow on Twitter and Facebook like PhD in Parenting.  I am me, out here keeping it real.

I blog because I think.  Writing helps me form my opinions, clear my head and make decisions.  If I had heaps of extra time I would blog all day long, because there are always ten things in a day that I want to share.  But maybe if I'm lucky I blog five times a month.  I'm not getting on anybody's most influential blogger list anytime soon, nor do I want to.  I blog for myself.  If people read it, great.  But I know that I am one of a million.  There are far better bloggers and there are worse, but there is only one me. 

Blogging takes courage. Sometimes I just spew some words and hit 'publish post'. Other times I agonize over a post for days or weeks.  It took courage to state that I was glad to have two boys.  I felt brave to admit my relief when I saw that little penis.  But it is essential to tell the truth.  Some times the truth comes easy and some times you gotta "Talk Hard" like Christian Slater taught us. But to me there is no point in typing these words if they are meant to impress, shock or get the attention of the indifferent world.  Of course, every blogger has her ego and her sense of importance, or why else would we do this? 

Some times my truth is a bad day with an ornery preschooler. Some times my truth is my ambivalence about motherhood, my life or any number of things.  Some times my truth lies in frustration, some times gratitude, some times rage.  My life s not made of a series of humorous or enlightening episodes ready for consumption by my adoring followers. My life is messy and complicated and boring and commonplace and also extraordinary.  I am to share all of its facets with the world, put each facet in the light for a moment of examination.  That's what blogging is to me.  Hopefully, through sharing I'll find growth and peace. But in the meantime, I just have to get it out. 

Savvy Source: Local editions

City Mama clued me into the new local editions at Savvy Source. And they are still in need of some more city editors. So if you see your city missing off of this list and think you have the style and know-how, well, throw your hat in. I did.

Also, in honor of the Being Savvy launch, City mama is having a giveaway.

Stuff of interest to thinking mamas.....

• On mothers pursuing PhD's. Awesome!
• Moms as writers.
• Ass-pants for virgins.How to stop phone book delivery.
• Ideas for what to do with your preschooler. Some easy and fun ideas.
  
• New York Times: How you spend your money on your kids.
• Do you wish you could get away? I sure do on many a day.
  
• A Primer on cloth diapering options, with a giveaway!
• Add your ideas for the Granny Manual.
  

Renewal, a Musical

Backyard Renewal
Originally uploaded by ndjohns

I have spent the last few days marveling over the dawning spring and wandering down the dirt paths of my misspent youth. Somehow these activities seem congruous to me. The fertile soil of my youth and adolescence feeding my current creative re-birth and my own nurturing of my son. The circle of life, or something.

The journal reading started with a search for a particular story that I wrote in college. In my memory the story rocked, but in reality, at least my current view; it really sucks in a naive and amateurish way. Now some of the other projects I uncovered were worth a look and even some revisions. But they reek of everything I no longer am, so it was painful and amusing, resulting in a rather melancholy mood.

Yesterday afternoon I was hit with the deep pain and obsessive tendencies hidden in plain view among the pages of my journals. I have had some serious cycles of depression, particularly in the late teens and early 20's. I probably should have been under some kind of professional psychological care, but no one ever mentioned it to me. I was good at hiding it, at least from the people who might have the authority or interest in helping me. But I think that if anyone had really dared to look they would have seen me struggling, I showed some obvious warning signs. But I guess in a testimony to my own character, I survived.

Most of the really painful situations and events of my life (at least since I was 10) are not chronicled in my journals. Just the heartbreak from boys who didn't like me or didn't love me, and sometimes a rant or two about the world in general. But I didn't write about my father's alcoholism or the abusive boyfriend. I censored myself or protected myself. I can't quite figure that one out. As a result of all this reading , brooding, remembering, laughing, missing and even some crying; I have decided to be absolutely honest in everything I write in my current and future journals. I really don't have anything to hide from myself. And if anyone else reads them, well that's what they get for snooping.

The other thing I learned about myself: I could be kind of promiscuous at times.