I’m having a bit of an identity crisis here lately. On one hand, I like writing about my son and the funny stuff he does (because let’s face it, a two year-old telling you his farts stink is comedy gold), but I’m afraid I’m falling more and more into the niche of the mommy blogger. And lately, that’s a four-letter word.
I tend to think of myself as a woman who blogs and has a child, not a woman who blogs because she has a child. In my everyday life, I’m first and foremost responsible for the care and feeding of a ridiculously quirky toddler (as well as his somewhat absentminded father), but online I try to explore more of my other interests. Like cursing. And zombies. And my obsession with pop culture and the phenom that is the Royal Wedding. (Capitalized! Because it’s like, Royal! And important, y’all!)
A blogger I admire recently whittled down the term ‘mommy-blogger’ to the following:
Most people define a mommy blogger as someone who only blogs about her kids and/or being a mom, excluding all other aspects of her life. The general consensus was also that it was generally derogatory, suggesting a person who considered herself superior based solely on her ability to procreate.
By her definition, I’m not exclusively a mommy-blogger because my posts are about more than just my leaky boobs and the consistency of my child’s poop. (Althought, I do tend to bitch about poop quite a bit. But if you’ve ever lived through the nightmare of having a motherfucking PERSON void his bowels in a tiny plastic cover, you’d be pretty grumpy, too. )
But I also like to think of myself as a D-grade humor writer. That doesn’t necessarily put me at odds with my role as a mother, but it’s not the easiest thing to meld together, either. I know I have readers who are not parents (and indeed, don’t want to be parents any time in the near future if EVER), so I try to balance things out in a kind of ratio that takes funny(?) tidbits in with the obligatory baby picture or four.
Because I haven’t quite figured out this ratio out, I’ll do the democratic thing and ask the people.
I know you’re out there, so please push the button. Throw a girl a bone, if you will. (Also: I’m pretty freaking impressed with myself right now. Getting that poll thingamajig on here is kind of out there for a person who should really be chiseling things into stone rather than butting her head against the wall of needlessly fucking complicated technology. So, yay?)