Indian Bloggers

Like Indians in a John Wayne western, "mommy bloggers" seem to eventually drop off the cyber horse after initially rushing in like gang busters. Harangued by Pinterest and the PTA and better Facebook parents, it's a wonder you even climb in the saddle. Time or lack thereof  is the fatal blow to aspiring bloggers and I can empathize- On the very day when you breathe a collective sigh and dare to hope: "I might just survive this two kids, one infant, homeschooling gig long enough to write about it," one of the three poops their pants.  Things fall apart. Always.

 

That's another thing:  I have always loathed coarse colloquialisms like "poop their pants" and there, without keystroke hesitation, I have committed it to cyber posterity. This is the mommy malaise...Before you know it, you're singing along with Disney Princess Pandora station  in your mini-van -The very cracker-strewn mini-van you swore you'd never drive, consoling yourself that at least it's pimped out with heated seats and a rear-view camera. At least. And if you could define your day in one word it would be: wipe. Wipe noses. Wipe bottoms. Wipe countertops. Wipe tears. Wipe hands. Wipe toilets. Wipe spit-up. Wipe. Wipe. Wipe. Another blow to the blog. . .that is already on life support.

 

Then, you learn you must move. What?! Yes. Pack up your entire home and all the obscure, forgotten culinary gadgets from your wedding registry another lifetime ago-the lifetime before you realized that a five minute shower would seem better than a spa-day. Cue the entrance of your savior mother who flew to Hawaii out of  fear that you might take up the bottle or institutionalize yourself just for the opportunity to use the bathroom alone. Of course, upon her "nick of time" arrival, you laugh - a little too shrilly- "Me? I am so fine! Another round of Benadryl for my tiny friends here plucking at my sleeve. In fact,  you caught me in the middle of savoring this season of life since it passes in a blink, you know. So, while we shout snippets of conversation over their whiny demands, I'll just whip up a dinner for the kids to refuse to eat." And somewhere amid the mounting moving boxes, lies my forsaken laptop and the blog that laughs at my efforts to remember the date when my third baby rolled over for the first time. (April 21st, ha!).

 

I am not bitter. Honest.  I just want to be honest- a trait some find distasteful. Pretense- I would argue- is the true evil. I may not create a fantasy home on Pinterest (my confessed "whipping boy") or blogged my "profound" (wink, wink) parenting insights or charted the emotional, academic and physical growth of each child, but this is our crazy, wonderful life for now.  Does that make sense? We teeter between insanity and bliss- and if the blog takes the hit, so be it. By the time quiet prevails and my days of "wiping" come to an end, the silence will be deafening.   

 

Today my blog is updated, fresh with a new fake family Easter photo which conceals the bedlam and bribery behind the beguiling smiles.  But, I will always remember this season when life was both overwhelmingly chaotic and perfectly lovely. So, this is my war cry on record- just in case -one day- I take a final bullet from John Wayne.